The Official Fanfiction University of Discworld
by Huinesoron
Summary: In the finest traditions of the Official Fanfiction Universities, and with the goal of spreading Miss Cam's doctrine of Learning Through Pain across the multiverse... this Administration hereby declares the Official Fanfiction University of Discworld open. The first class are ready to begin their lessons. May the gods have mercy on their fangirl souls.
1. Chapter 0

"Lu-Tze!"

The Abbot was still a young man – about six years old, on this particular cycle – but he had already regained his booming voice. Or at least, it would be booming when it broke. For now, 'strident' was probably the politest way to describe it. Lu-Tze the Sweeper hurried through the door into the Mandala hall and stopped dead. There weren't many things that could halt Lu-Tze in his tracks, but the pattern still forming in the sand was one of them.

"Lancre again?" he asked, his worried eyes finding the Abbot's face.

The other monk shrugged. "Similar," he agreed. "But the location...?"

Lu-Tze studied the pattern – stable now, even beginning to fade. After a long silence, he checked no-one else was present, and admitted, "I don't know."

"Can you find out?"

The Sweeper shook his head slowly. "It is written, 'I'm stumped'. It looks like it's everywhere – or nowhere – or both."

The Abbot of the History Monks nodded. "Then... your protégé?"

Lu-Tze looked startled. "The boy? I wouldn't begin to know how to reach him."

"I see." The Abbot's mouth set in a thin line. "Then you cannot help?"

"... well, I do have one idea," Lu-Tze admitted, glancing towards the door. "But I'll have to persuade Qu to let me into his kitchen again..."

* * *

High on the peak of Cori Celesti, Holy and Sacred Anoia, goddess of things which stick in drawers, shifted her cigarette from one side of Her mouth to the other and raised an eyebrow. "Well, that was new," She admitted to no-one in particular. "I can't recall anyone ever rattling an exploding drawer before. What's up?"

She seemed to listen to an inaudible voice, then frowned. "Tricky," She mused. "I don't know him personally... or anyone who does." She blew out a ring of smoke and tucked the cigarette behind her ear. "There was this one bloke, though... all right, leave it with me." Humming softly to herself, she walked briskly towards the Great Hall.

* * *

"Oh, _me_..."

Beside Bilious, Violet rolled over sleepily. "Wha'?" she mumbled. Bilious clutched at his head.

"I thought this was over... argh, all right, all right, I'm listening."

Rubbing sleep from her eyes, Violet sat up and looked at him. "What is it?" she asked, her face creasing with concern. "Your head?" But Bilious wasn't listening. Wincing, he nodded a few times – then collapsed onto the pillow, his face a mingled mask of pain and relief. Violet touched a hand to his forehead and gasped. "You're burning up!"

"It's all right," the (former) Oh God of Hangovers said, waving her hand away weakly. "He's gone."

"He who? Gone how?"

"Io. Wanted me to pass on a message... where's Banjo?"

* * *

Susan Sto Helit checked her hair one last time, brushed some possibly-imaginary dust off her skirt, and stopped her clock. Usually she did this by snapping her fingers, but this time she broke with tradition and just blocked the second hand with her thumb. The strip of wood shuddered against her skin, emitting sad little ticks as it tried desperately to keep track of time.

"That hurts, you know," a voice said, and a haze of blue light descended on the room. Susan smiled and moved her finger as a familiar figure coalesced.

"Hello, Lobsang," she said. "How's time?"

"Mostly still going," the anthropomorphic personification of Time said with a shrug. "Is this just a social call, then?"

Susan's lip twitched. "I had a visit from the rat," she admitted. Lobsang raised an eyebrow.

"What's gone horribly wrong now?"

"I don't know," Susan said. "He brought a message from Old Man Trouble, who got it from the Scissor Man, who got it from the Tooth Fairy... anyway, long story short, Lu-Tze has a question for you."

Lobsang frowned. "Go on."

"He wants to ask you, _Who skipped forward__?_"

Lobsang stared at her for a long, tense moment, then burst out laughing. Susan folded her arms and watched him until he stopped and grinned at her. "Sorry. But honestly, Miss Susan, you're going to _love_ the answer to this one."

* * *

And high above Llamedos, where white-robed druids practice less-than-serene rites under perpetual cloud, a patch of sky that was far more solid than usual was filled with babbling voices..

"All right, settle down," came a command above the racket. The voices grew hushed – but not quite enough. "I said, _quiet_!" the voice shouted, and there came the sound of something being thrown – something rather more lethal than the usual chalk or board eraser. Silence fell with the _tink_ of metal on stone.

"Excellent. Now then, class, your first lesson today is on underused plot elements, their importance, and _correct_ usage. Pens out, everyone..."

It had taken a five year timeslip to make it happen, but OFUDisc was back in session. It was going to be a year to remember.

* * *

**Disclaimer:** All Discworld canon characters and locations are the creations of Sir Terry Pratchett. The Official Fanfiction University concept is the creation of Miss Cam. All details of (and mistakes in) plot, narrative and dialogue are mine. Thanks to the Irish Samauri for betaing.

**Author's Note:** Eight years ago, or five in-universe years, I started writing the original Official Fanfiction University of Discworld. Four chapters in, it was deleted from for being interactive.

This is the reboot, or perhaps the continuation. This story is emphatically not interactive. You cannot apply to OFUDisc. Applications closed eight years ago.

That being said... I hope you have as much fun reading this as I did writing it. I realise that's a cliché, but in this case it happens to be true.


	2. Chapter 1

The first death in Class 2 occurred approximately three minutes into Pretty Butterfly's lecture on underused elements. "We'll start with a few easy questions," the Auriental woman said, tossing a lacquered hairstick idly from hand to hand. "Can anyone tell me what is worn by an alumnus of Unseen University?"

"A pointy hat!" went up the cry from several cross-legged students. Pretty Butterfly shook her head in disappointment.

"Oh, dear, and it's in the very first book, too. No-one? Hm, perhaps too tricky. How about this – where are pyramids most commonly found?"

"Egypt!" called one student – Phoebe thought her name was Esme something. Pretty Butterfly scowled.

"Clearly my sister is rubbing off on me; I forgot to consider that you're all as thick as... well, students. Do any of you even know who my father is?"

Silence hung heavy – except for the somewhat sullen voice of Esme. "I actually _do_ know this one – it's Rinsewind!"

Phoebe didn't even see the hairstick leave Pretty Butterfly's hand – just heard the thud as, with unerring accuracy, it lodged itself an inch deep in Esme's textbook. "However you try to spell his name, the so-called Great Wizzard is _definitely_ not-" Pretty Butterfly began, then stopped, frowning "Where is she?"

Several of the students near Esme's empty spot pointed – over the edge of the hovering menhir, into the clouds below. There was a muffled thud, and Pretty Butterfly sighed. "Typical."

Phoebe hunkered down, trying to get closer to the reassuring solidity of the rock. Then something clattered onto the stone in front of her: an eggtimer. She stared at it, wondering who had dropped it there, reached out a finger to poke it – and was yanked to her feet by an irresistible force.

"Sit back down!" Pretty Butterfly snapped, then blinked. "Oh – it's you. Well, be quick about it."

Phoebe shook her head in bewilderment and felt her hair fly out of its ponytail into something resembling a dandelion – and from the glimpses she could catch of it, a pure white one, which didn't entirely match her normally-red hair. She felt a sudden weight in her right hand, glanced over at the lethal-looking farm implement, and remembered. Well, putting herself down as the Death of Fangirls had seemed funny at the time...

"Get on with it," Pretty Butterfly growled at her black-robed student. Phoebe swallowed, nodded, and made her way through the seated students to the edge of the rock. Her newly-gained instincts were telling her to jump, which didn't exactly fit her previous plans, but... _Immortal, right?_ she thought, and sprang.

Even as she plummeted she heard Pretty Butterfly start up the lesson again: "Let's take this from the beginning... the _very_ beginning." The rest faded into the wind. Phoebe clutched her scythe tight to her chest and wished fervently she had something warmer and less loose than a robe on. Preferably something involving lots of springs.

The landing, when it came, was surprisingly gentle – so much so that Phoebe fell over, braced against an impact that never came. As she clambered to her feet, collecting her scythe and lifetimer, rearranging her robe, she took in the scene. The dew-covered grass glistened dully in the mist, save for the patch covered by the still form of Esme. The only other things in sight were a couple of stone circles peering through the fog, and an incongruous scarlet handbag lying next to Esme. Oh, and the semitransparent figure standing over the corpse, connected to it by a blue thread from one ankle.

"What happened?" Esme's spectre asked plaintively. "I... I think I fell...?"

"Um." Phoebe tried to find the right response. "Well. You see."

Esme looked straight at Phoebe, and clearly managed to take in at least some of what was going on: she gasped with delight. "Susan!" she squealed, and ran towards Phoebe, arms outstretched. Phoebe took a step back, but it was unnecessary; Esme reached the end of her glowing tether and fell flat on her face. She looked down at her ankle and her face fell. "Oh. I see." Then she glanced back at Phoebe, propped herself up on her elbows, and smiled winningly. "So, Susan... are you here to take me away from all this?" She winked. "I'll even call you _Miss_ Susan if you like..."

"SHUT UP," Phoebe snapped, and jumped slightly at the hollow sound of her voice – but not as high as Esme did. "I'm not Susan – I don't look anything _like_ her. Idiot."

Esme's face fell even further. "Oh. Then who _are_ you?"

"I'm the Death of Fangirls," Phoebe said, brandishing her scythe and stalking forward. Until that moment she hadn't known she could stalk, but apparently it came with the job. She turned the lifetimer in her hand and read the label.

"Esme... good grief, your last name really is 'Something'?" Esme nodded, scowling. "Fine. Esme Something, fangirl of Susan Sto Helit, you're dead. Get lost." She swung the scythe in a gleaming arc and severed the blue cord. Esme flinched, then climbed to her feet.

"Well, maybe I will," she sniffed. "You go where you think you should, right? I'm thinking a black palace and a certain granddaughter of-"

Whatever other thoughts Esme was having were lost when the unprepossessing handbag sprang up on hundreds of tiny feet and swallowed her with a single lunge. Phoebe threw herself backwards, but the handbag simply sat, looking distinctly satisfied with itself. Eventually she worked up the courage to crawl closer. "Rinsewind," she read off a tiny metal plate, and realised that the red fabric of the bag was distinctly worn, with darker patches that could once have been sequin stars. "O... kay," she said. "I guess she created you, so you... get to eat her soul? Is that the way it goes?"

The handbag gave her a long-suffering look (somehow), spat a slip of paper into her hand, and turned to march off across the grass. Phoebe watched it go, then looked down at the document.

"To the Death of Fangirls," it said in a flowing hand. "You have doubtless surmised the nature of your Duty by this time. Spirits will be collected by the nearest mini-Luggage and brought here to await resurrection in the appropriate form. Please note that your scythe and powers will manifest only when required. When not discharging your duties you are instructed to attend your assigned classes; work missed in the execution of your duties must be made up later.

"Signed, The Administration."

Dropping the note, Phoebe realised that her scythe had vanished while she was reading, her robes had morphed back into her usual clothes, and her hair had snaked back into its ponytail. She checked: yes, it was red again. "Awesome," she said, and jumped upwards towards the floating rock.

It took about a quarter of a second for her to realise why that wasn't going to work, and by then she had reached the peak of her impotent hop – about a foot off the floor – and was still firmly in gravity's embrace. She landed, almost fell, and scowled up at the clouds – then wrapped her arms around herself against the creeping chill of the wind and started walking back towards the stone circle the class had started out from.

* * *

**Disclaimer:** All Discworld canon characters and locations are the creations of Sir Terry Pratchett. The Official Fanfiction University concept is the creation of Miss Cam. Phoebe is based on an application to OFUDisc by Fawkes Phoenix. Esme Something is an original character created by me. All details of (and mistakes in) plot, narrative and dialogue are mine. Thanks to the Irish Samauri for betaing.

**Author's Note:** Cruelty to students, rabid fangirls, mini-Luggages and more cruelty to students? Yep – it's an OFU, all right.

A little clarification on our star here: her general description and her role as Death of Fangirls were part of an application by Fawkes Phoenix back when OFUDisc first started. Since she got switched into a starring role for this version, I took the liberty of changing her name – the character _as written_ is created by me, but is based on Fawkes' ideas.

And I apologise for Phoebe speaking in ALL CAPS rather than small caps. Regrettably, doesn't allow the latter...


	3. Chapter 2

Class 2's first lesson had gone well – at least by OFU standards, which list student discomfort as the highest imperative. Complaints to the Administration about the spinning kicks Pretty Butterfly punctuated her instruction with (the hairstick had been retired after Esme's fall – it had made its point) were returned by a sniggering Death of Rats – and there's only so many times you can hear 'SNH SNH SNH' before you give up. The group were on their way to their second lecture – which presented a minor problem for the Administration.

"Students? In _my_ University?"

Mustrum Ridcully strode down a corridor, deliberately lengthening his steps so that the OFUDisc pest had to scurry to keep up. "I won't have it, sir, I simply will not have it."

The pest in question – an Administrator in a sensible suit with a white t-shirt just visible underneath – sighed. "Not for long, Archchancellor," he said. "This isn't like last time."

"You mean when you and that bird-woman insisted I had to house the lot of you?" Ridcully snapped. "Good. Nothing but trouble, students."

"Which is why we intend to make a brief visit, teach them that magic is Not To Be Meddled With, and move on," the pest agreed. The Archchancellor raised an eyebrow.

"That's your game? Well, can't say I object to the lesson, at least." He sighed, stopped, turned to face the Administrator. "This came from the Hat, you say?"

"Directly, sir," the pest acknowledged. Ridcully nodded.

"Drat," he said. "Then I don't seem to have much choice. All right, lead the way."

The Administrator blinked. "I wasn't asking _you_ to teach them..." he managed. Ridcully snorted.

"What – tell one of the Faculty they have to teach _students_? Not on my watch, sir. This Archchancellor won't lead where others follow!" And off he marched, leaving the pest staring in his wake.

* * *

Phoebe already had a backache from pulling herself onto a low-flying monolith, leg-ache from the five-mile hike beforehand, and various other -aches from Pretty Butterfly's kicks on her return (she had, it appeared, unaccountably missed most of the lesson). Now she could feel a headache coming on. All that was needed to complete her misery would be people shouting and screaming.

"Right then, you chaps!" came the bellow on-cue. "As Archancellor of this University, I am here to whip you into – oh I'm terribly sorry." The robed figure of Ridcully entered the room and stopped dead. "I may have the wrong room."

"I don't think we're what he was expecting," the girl next to Phoebe whispered, and giggled. Phoebe's chance to reply was lost in a high-pitched squeal, and a pink-clad girl flung herself towards Ridcully.

"Mustard!" she screamed as she threw her arms around him, not noticing (or not caring) how the wizard's entire body stiffened. "Mustard Ridicully! I'm your biggest fan _ever_! Oh em gee!" Something hit the ground with a thud just outside the door, and Phoebe caught a glimpse of a small suitcase.

"His face'll match his robes soon," Phoebe's neighbour murmured, and held out her hand. "I'm Liliac, by the way. Like the colour only not."

"Um, Phoebe," said Phoebe, shaking her hand. The other girl had blonde streaks running through her otherwise brown hair, and Phoebe couldn't resist asking, "Did you put that on your form?"

"The application?" Liliac's lip twisted. "No, I was boring. I _should_ have, though. Your Death thing is awesome."

"Well, sort of," Phoebe agreed dubiously. She glanced towards the door, where the Ridcully fangirl was still clinging, making soft 'oh em gee' noises all the time. The emotion building up in Ridcully appeared to have reached boiling point, and sure enough (to mix up the metaphor a little), it erupted.

"What. Is. This?" Ridcully ground out. "You – girl – explain yourself."

The fangirl beamed up at him. "My name is Lindyellwen," she said in a rapid, singsong squeak. "I'm the princess of the Silverwood only I didn't know that because I was kidnapped at birth and raised by an evil person but my real parents Killewonwyn and Jonydkled found me after _years_ and rescued me and also I'm the mistress of air and water and guardian of the book of light and-"

"Be _quiet_!" Ridcully cut her off. "Don't you breathe, creature? What _are_ you?"

"I'm not a creature!" Lindyellwen protested. "I'm an _elf_ and I happen to be two million eight hundred and ninety-three thousand nine hundred and four years old!"

Phoebe sprang to her feet without any clear idea why she was doing so – it certainly didn't feel like another call to the Duty. "You're no elf!" she exclaimed. "I'm the only elf here!" She stopped, gasping for breath, and realised everyone was staring. She felt her cheeks start to burn and sat down hurriedly. Burying her face in her hands, she mumbled, "I don't know why I did that."

There was an electronic beep, and she turned her head to see Liliac slipping a complicated-looking bit of equipment back into her pocket.

"You're a Token Elf," the other girl informed her. "Apparently that means you can't stand the presence of other elves; your instincts tell you you're the only one."

"I am the only-" Phoebe snapped, cutting herself off with a hand over her mouth. "Okay, but why? I applied as a _Tolkien_ elf."

"Because there's no Tolkien here," a whispered voice said from behind them. "Believe me, I'd know."

Phoebe turned to see a short, bespectacled girl leaning forward. "How?" she asked. The other shrugged.

"I applied to OFUM, but _they say_ my papers got misfiled. Cazzie, by the way. And you must be Phoebe. You're a little bit famous."

"Um, nice to-" Phoebe began.

"_Magic!_" boomed Ridcully in a faintly desperate voice, and the three girls looked round to see Lindyellwen pinned to the floor by a small ambulatory suitcase, leaving the Archchancellor free to teach. Liliac's lip set in a thin line, but she ignored Phoebe's inquisitive look.

"Magic is what makes the Discworld, what keeps it going. It is in everything; indeed in some ways, Mr. Stibbons tells me, it _is_ everything." Ridcully looked over the class. "Which of you... children can name any of the groups who use magic?"

"Wizards!" several voices called at once, and Ridcully nodded, a hint of satisfaction on his face. Encouraged, a girl named Hawkelf added, "And witches!"

"To a lesser extent," Ridcully agreed. "A wizard draws-"

"And priests!" shouted another student. Ridcully scowled.

"Gods-bothering is hardly the same as magic. To continue-"

"Don't forget astronomers!" put in a girl dressed as either a vampire or someone who has never heard of the colour 'not black'. The wizard's face darkened further.

"Men who stare at the sky all night-" he began, but was interrupted again – by Cazzie.

"Sourcerers, too," she called, and shrugged when Phoebe and Liliac stared at her. "I never said I didn't _read_ Discworld," she pointed out.

Ridcully's face was thunderous to behold. "There are no sourcerers on the Disc," he declared, "and-"

"Sure there are," one girl – Andy – said. "There's one in Class 4."

"No, didn't you hear?" put in her friend Saphie. "She got downgraded. She's just a saucer now."

The sound of Ridcully's teeth grinding filled the room. "But perhaps," he said in an exquisitely polite tone, "the theory of magic is not the best starting point. We will proceed directly to the practical demonstration." He pushed up his sleeves and began to mutter under his breath, coloured lights springing into existence around his head. The class leant forward to watch – except for the few most cautious, who leant back instead (and Phoebe noted a few of the oldest ones trying to sneak out of the door). Finally, Ridcully straightened up, one hand held in front of him. "Observe," he said, "the common fireball."

The mini-Luggage Mustard Ridicully leapt away as the incandescent orb struck Lindyellwen full on. The class gasped in dismay – Liliac actually started to her feet – and Phoebe braced herself for the call of the Duty. If ever there was a fangirl in need of a death...

But the call never came. Her lurid pink top still smouldering, Lindyellwen leapt to her feet and gave Ridcully a brilliant smile. The Archchancellor spluttered, "But... how?" The smile widened.

"Oh, Mustard," she said affectionately, "how clever of you figuring it out!" She turned to the rest of the class, still beaming. "Didn't you know?" she asked them. "_Elves can't die._"

Ridcully tried to dodge, but moved too slowly. With Lindyellwen's arms once more locked around his waist, he scowled at the class. "Can't die, eh?" he grumbled. "We'll see about that, whatever you are." He drew in a deep breath and bellowed:

"_Stibbons_!"

* * *

**Disclaimer:** All Discworld canon characters and locations are the creations of Sir Terry Pratchett. The Official Fanfiction University concept is the creation of Miss Cam. Phoebe is based on an application to OFUDisc by Fawkes Phoenix. All other students are based on applications to OFUDisc. All details of (and mistakes in) plot, narrative and dialogue are mine. Thanks to the Irish Samauri for betaing.

**Author's Note:** Lindyellwen is based entirely on her application form. Right down to 'Elves can't die'.


	4. Chapter 3

The arrival of Ponder Stibbons had not, Phoebe suspected, gone the way Ridcully had hoped. Half a dozen students had jumped the young Head of Inadvisably Applied Magic, with one of them – the incredibly-named Lucy2 "Diamanda2" Tockley2-Stibbons – screaming "Husband! Husband!" all the while. Nenya Gabriel, being the oldest human class member, had taken the opportunity to sneak out in search of refuge (or just possibly, as she commented later, in search of Rincewind), but had walked straight into an Administrator. _His_ appearance had calmed things down some, although Saphie had taken one look at him and collapsed in a dead faint.

So Day One of OFUDisc classes had clattered to its end, and the students were set to walking to their quarters. On the way, shortly before they left Ankh-Morpork, a girl named Becky had committed suicide – at least, that's what Phoebe understood it to be called when you trip over, knock three trollish market stalls through Chrysoprase's front window... and then go inside when invited. When Phoebe had picked her up, she had seemed confused: "This wasn't supposed to happen!" she'd exclaimed. "I'm meant to be the main-" And then she'd been eaten by a battered-looking medical case. Such is death.

As Class Two made their way up a mountain road, Phoebe found herself walking alongside their guide. He wasn't the Administrator from earlier, nor (to the regret of various class members) one of the teachers. Instead he was someone so unlovely Phoebe didn't believe anyone could ever lust after him. His face was covered in stitches and pins, and a glimpse of a dark line on his wrist suggested they didn't stop at the collar. Actually there was something vaguely familiar about the whole thing.

"You're Ygor, right?" she blurted, then flinched as the bag that had eaten Becky dropped from nowhere onto the path in front of her. The strange man bent down and picked it up.

"That'th _Igor_," he said without rancour. "But don't feel bad – by my count you are the eleventh-and-a-halfth perthon to make that mithtake today."

Phoebe blinked. "And a half?"

"Your claththmate," Igor clarified. "Thhe tripped over Ygor here halfway through the quethtion, and thomehow never finithed."

Phoebe swallowed and glanced at the bag. "Right. Um, sorry."

"Don't worry about it," Igor said reassuringly. "And if it maketh you feel any better, you're only the thicth and a quarterth perthon to apologithe."

Phoebe didn't ask.

* * *

That night, in OFUDisc's decrepit castle in Uberwald (something about that sentence felt wrong, but Phoebe wasn't sure what), Phoebe lay on her bed in the Class 2 Dormitory and listened to the dark.

There were, of course, the sounds of two dozen girls adjusting to their new home – sobs, tossing and turning, the occasional whisper. There were a few faint spots of light – torches, she supposed, or mobile phones which even international calling plans couldn't save – and by that glow she watched more than one girl sneak across to try the door. It was locked.

Under all that, though, were the noises of the castle itself – the creaking of wood, the deep groaning of stone, and the faintest of murmurs which could have been ghosts, could have been rats, could have been her imagination. She strained her ears, trying to catch the almost-words that were saying, were saying-

"Psst."

Phoebe almost jumped out of her skin at the sound. That _wasn't_ a ghostly whisper – it came from right next to her bed, and as (bad) luck would have it, no one had a torch lit. "Who's there?" she whispered back.

"It's Penny," came the reply out of the near-total darkness. "You're the Goth girl, right?"

"Um, I think that's Yukimona," Phoebe whispered. "She's at the end of the-"

"Not vampire-Goth," Penny interrupted dismissively. "Death-Goth."

"Oh. Yes, I suppose."

"Good." Phoebe's bed creaked softly, and Penny's next words came from right beside her ear. "I have a question to ask you."

Phoebe was more than a little bewildered. It wasn't every night strange girls climbed into one's bed for no known reason. Still, there was no harm in asking, "What?"

Penny swallowed nervously. "While you've been... you know, with the scythe... have you picked up a girl named Vemi?"

Phoebe thought back and shook her head. Then, remembering the darkness, she whispered, "No."

She felt Penny slump. "She's not here, then. But she should be."

"Maybe she didn't get in," Phoebe offered. "It's quite a small school."

"No, she _did_," Penny insisted. "But something's wrong. I mean, look: how old are you?"

"Fourteen," Phoebe whispered, then blinked. "No, sorry, twenty-two."

"So are most of the class," Penny told her. "And that's weird, because OFU students are usually younger – about the first age you said."

"It was just a slip of the tongue," Phoebe pointed out, feeling oddly defensive. "Anyone could have made it."

"And everyone does," Penny whispered emphatically. "We're all convinced it's eight years ago." There was a motion in the bed – perhaps Penny shaking her head. "And we act like it, too. I mean, I'm a PPC Agent and Guild Assassin, but I feel like... a teenager."

Phoebe tried to come up with a response, but Penny hadn't finished – if anything, she was getting more agitated. "And I keep feeling like I've been here before – _with _Vemi – only it was different, there were giant broomsticks and Ridcully shot fireballs at us-"

"No, that was today," Phoebe interrupted. She wanted to say the other girl – the other _woman_, none of them were teenagers any more, why couldn't she remember that? - was making it all up, but it did strike a chord. Something about... had she died? She shook her head. Ridiculous. She'd _know_ if she'd been here before – right?

"And now she's not here," Penny said in her quietest voice yet, "and everything's all strange and I miss her and I'm scared." Phoebe's heart wrenched, and she reached over to touch the other girl's shoulder. She was perhaps unreasonably surprised when Penny rolled over and clung to her.

"Um, there, there," Phoebe tried. "I'm sure you'll find her..."

"I'll never see her again," Penny sobbed. "She's moved on and I thought she might still be herself here but she's _not_ and I miss her so much..." She sniffed, lifted a hand to wipe her face. When she spoke again, it was with a kind of brittle calm. "Can... can I sleep here tonight?"

Phoebe's mind raced like lightning. All the possible answers, the maybe replies, the could-be consequences... she chose quickly. She had to.

"I don't think there's room for two," she said gently. "But we can talk tomorrow if you like."

There was a long moment of silence, then she felt Penny nod. "Sure," she whispered. "I'd like that." She rolled off the bed, stood, and walked away, trailing might-have-beens and neverweres across the floor.

* * *

**Disclaimer:** All Discworld canon characters and locations are the creations of Sir Terry Pratchett. The Official Fanfiction University concept is the creation of Miss Cam. The PPC (Protectors of the Plot Continuum) is the creation of Jay and Acacia. Phoebe is based on an application to OFUDisc by Fawkes Phoenix. All other students are based on applications to OFUDisc. All details of (and mistakes in) plot, narrative and dialogue are mine. Thanks to the Irish Samurai for betaing.

**Author's Note:** This chapter heavily references the original run of OFUDisc, which starred a certain Becky Glienna, and did indeed involve a fireball-slinging Ridcully. While cut tragically short at the time, the three extant chapters (chapter 2 is unfortunately lost forever) can be found via the link on my profile – along with, among other things, the mini-Luggage Adoption Centre... and, if you've never heard of us, some links to tell you about the PPC.


	5. Chapter 4

Breakfast the next morning was a subdued affair, provided 'subdued' is an acceptable synonym for 'insane'. The brochures (which Phoebe had read as well as anyone, ie, she'd looked at the pictures) had promised an all-you-can-eat buffet of regional specialities, and the promise had been spectacularly fulfilled. Unfortunately, the students hadn't quite got the hang of the OFU teaching methods, so were rather incautious about what they ate.

"It looked perfectly normal!" Kisheara explained. "How was I supposed to know it was dwarf bread?"

"The bit where you hit yourself over the head with it might have been a hint," Phoebe muttered as she swung the scythe. Kisheara shrugged.

"By the time I realised my skull was cracked it was a bit late. So what happens-" A miniature sea-chest covered in creepers – Sam Vines, Phoebe thought – leapt from under the table, and Kisheara was gone. Phoebe started to walk back to her friends, the crowd moving unconsciously out of her way (although the various vampires gave her worried looks). Then there came a long scream, and she span round to see Tindomiel throw a coffee mug onto the floor and run straight through the Class 2 dining room's fifth-storey window.

The Death of Fangirls was waiting for her when she hit the ground. She listened to the girl's complaint – "How could I possibly have known it was Klashian coffee?" – then swung the scythe and left her for the newly-manifested camel-hair bag to take care of.

When Phoebe rejoined the others, Liliac jumped. "Where'd you come from?" she exclaimed, then glanced at Phoebe's hair, which was in the process of readjusting. "Oh, the Death thing. Why does it do that?"

"Because narrativium has no imagination," Penny said dryly. Phoebe had introduced them before being dragged off by the Duty, and they seemed to get on well enough. Penny appeared to have recovered her composure, though Phoebe was perceptive enough to see how thin that calm really was. "Susan's got dandelion-clock hair," the soft-voiced girl went on, "so you do too. Did you know it's got a red streak in it?"

"Oh, well, obviously I spend all my time looking in mirrors," Phoebe replied. "So – and given the morning I've had I'm almost afraid to ask this – what's for breakfast?"

"A medley of cultural dishes," Cazzie said, holding up a menu. "From the Ramtops, fresh* bread, where the asterisk is 'less than a decade old'. From the cities and deserts of Klatch, coffee and delicacies."

"Which means sheep eyeballs," Liliac added, pointing at the table in question. Everyone was giving it a wide berth.

"And," Cazzie resumed, "from the cities, towns, villages, hamlets and isolated farmsteads of the Sto Plains... brassica."

"Well, that doesn't sound instantly fatal," Phoebe said, cautiously optimistic. Penny grimaced.

"It isn't. It's worse."

"It's cabbages," Liliac finished morosely. "Lots and lots of cabbages."

"Cabbage bread, cabbage juice, cabbage soup," said Cazzie.

"Dried cabbage cereal," put in Penny. "Cabbage jam. Fried cabbage."

"Stewed, pickled and roast cabbage," Liliac resumed, not to be outdone. "Oh, and just plain cabbage leaves. Can't forget them."

Phoebe felt slightly ill. "Is there any water?"

"Yes," Cazzie said, "but it's from the Great Nef. Dehydrated."

Phoebe sighed and sat down heavily on one of the hard wooden chairs dotted around the room. "What did we do to deserve this?" she asked.

"Oh, don't be like that," Liliac told her. "I'm sure lunch will be better – remember yesterday's curry?"

"No, it's a serious question," Phoebe said, her head in her hands. "Why are we even here? I remember filling out the form, but – it's been years since I wrote fanfic. Why did they send it to me – and why did I reply?"

"It's what I was saying," Penny replied quietly. "We – I applied so I could learn more about the Disc, but I've been working here for seven years now. I even lived here for a couple. Why would I do that?"

"I know why _I'm_ here," Cazzie put in. "I applied to OFUM years back, but didn't get a reply – decided to try again – got misfiled and sent here. Simple enough."

"Penny I understand," Liliac said, "it's for her job. But why would you _want_ to go to OFUM?"

"It's an experience," Cazzie shrugged. "Do you realise the Official Fanfiction University of Middle-earth has run continuously since the summer after the first movie came out?"

"So? That's only a few years," Liliac scoffed. Cazzie shrugged.

"A decade is long enough for me to be interested," she said. Penny frowned at her.

"Speaking of which," she said, "how old are you, Cazzie?"

"Er, twenty-seven. Is it important?"

"Probably not." She shrugged. Phoebe was looking thoughtfully at Liliac.

"So what about you?" she asked. "Old fanfics, work, filing – what's _your_ story?"

Liliac took a look around – as if to check no-one was listening – and spoke in a hushed voice. "I'm on a secret mission from a trans-dimensional agency," she told them. "OFUDisc has been designated an area of concern, and-"

"Yes, and I'm the Duchess of Sto Helit," Cazzie snorted. "Go on, spill."

Liliac grinned. "Well, it was worth a try. No, I work for an animal protection society – MEAPS, we're called – and, well, I write _Discworld_ fanfic. Not that much to tell."

"Well, we are a boring lot, aren't we?" Penny said, only a hint of falsehood in her cheerful tone. "Can you imagine anyone writing a film about us? 'Two fanwriters, a curious investigator, and... an _administrative error_. Together, they are... the _Fanfictional Four_!'"

* * *

**Disclaimer:** All Discworld canon characters and locations are the creations of Sir Terry Pratchett. The Official Fanfiction University concept is the creation of Miss Cam. MEAPS is Liliac's creation. Phoebe is based on an application to OFUDisc by Fawkes Phoenix. All other students are based on applications to OFUDisc. All details of (and mistakes in) plot, narrative and dialogue are mine. Thanks to the Irish Samurai for betaing.

**Author's Note:** MEAPS was formed back in 2003 by Liliac, and actually had its own story at one point. Unfortunately, that story has vanished from the internet. And no, I'm not telling you what it stands for – yet.


	6. Chapter 5

The first thing that began to bother Phoebe as she settled into the first class of the day was the anxious look some of the students were giving the door. All right, everyone was looking across occasionally, wondering who the teacher would be (they were back in Unseen U, so it _could_ be Rincewind – or Ponder), but a few of them – Phoebe noticed Kai, Yukimona and Maligna Chiroptera, all three of them vampires – looked particularly concerned, as if they could see something the others couldn't. _Probably they can smell garlic or something_, she mused.

The second thing, and this really got to her, was the empty seats. They were doing her head in. She counted six, which made one for each of the four deaths so far – Esme, Becky, Kisheara and Tindomiel – and, oh, the last one was probably where Penny's absent friend Vemi would have sat.

_That's only five_, a treacherous corner of her mind told her. _What about the sixth?_

She decided she must have miscounted. Let's see, one, two, three and four... five.

_And the one by the window?_

No, she'd done that one. Try again, though, starting there. One, two and three, four, five.

_This time you missed the one in the front row,_ the little voice told her, but she firmly ignored it. There were no mysteries here.

The third worry was that they were back in Unseen University, and dorm-room rumour said that Ponder Stibbons had been working on anti-Lindyellwen measures. Phoebe had a horrible feeling they weren't going to work – and that she would have to deal with the fallout.

The door creaked open (a strong, proper creak its mother could be proud of) and a thin, nervous-looking wizard stepped in. There were sighs of disappointment from the Ponder-lusters – it wasn't him – and a squeal from Lindyellwen.

"Rinsewind!" she exclaimed, and the first mini-Luggage Phoebe had met popped into existence – right above the girl next to her.

"Ow," Hawkelf grumbled as the bag bounced off her head. "Watch it, will you?"

"Sorry, Hawky," Lindyellwen said (which was clearly accepted by the universe as a nickname – good thing too, Phoebe didn't want to find out what a mini-Fangirl looked like), "but look! It's Rinsewind!" The mini-Luggage in question began to roam around the floor, snuffling at people's feet.

The arriving wizard rubbed his nose. "Um, that young Assistant Librarian?" he asked. "No, I'm afraid not. I am, in fact, the Bursar."

"Burger!" Lindyellwen exclaimed (and Hawkelf ducked – a moment too late – and declared that she was going to run off and live in the ceiling if this went on). "You're one of my favourites too!"

"Um, quite," the Bursar said, throwing a nervous glance of his own at the door. "Is, um, everyone seated?"

A chorus of 'Yes, Bursar' spread across the room (with enough 'Burger's thrown in to set the mini-Luggage spinning). Phoebe frowned – she didn't remember the Bursar being blind, just insane. And none of the vampires had replied.

"Um. Good. Now, today you're going to be learning about Mathematics and its applicability to magic. Did you know that the very first wizard on, um, the Disc could only count up to..."

The Bursar droned on, and Phoebe started to tune him out. The rest of the girls were growing restless, too (with the exception of Vee, who was watching the wizard with an expression approaching rapture – weird, Phoebe had thought she was a Ponder-luster). One girl, Raen, had started carving her name in the lid of her desk; she was up to about a dozen alphabets so far. Several others (Kaitlyn, Sirius Skylight, Sliver, and Yukimona) seemed to be engaged in some sort of scheming, which worried Phoebe more for the deaths she might have to deal with than anything else. Liliac had her bit of technology out again and was pointing it at each student in turn, and the Bursar was _still_ talking.

"... consider the potential value of there being a fairy in my shoe that we..."

Phoebe looked up sharply. Okay, that wasn't quite normal.

"... have to be aware that Mr. Socko has paid me a visit, and _he_ says flying causes cavities, but _Millie_ says..."

Phoebe became aware of three more things. First, the Bursar's eyes were rolling in opposite directions. Second, he was levitating about a foot off the floor. And third, Lindyellwen had started talking again.

"... because he doesn't take his dried fog pills," she said, and a small blue glass bottle bounced off Hawkelf's shoulder and scuttled away.

"You really know a lot about him," Lucy2 said admiringly from the seat on her other side. "I just know about my Ponder..." She sighed dreamily.

"Oh, I know about him too," Lindyellwen said confidently. "And I know about Mustard Ridicully and the Deem and the Lecturer in Decent Rooms and the Seedier Waggler and the Chair of Desperately Studly and the Library Nun and Hexxx... I know _lots_ about Unclean University."

There was a moment – just a moment – when the universe seemed to hold its breath. Then, in a shower of angry pieces of baggage (including, significantly, a heavy stone pot called Unclean University) it exhaled – right onto Hawkelf's head. Phoebe reached for her scythe.

As her hair unwound, she glanced around again at the empty chairs. There were six, clear as daylight. And dancing in front of the Bursar – who had now begun to sing, in a voice that cracked with every other word – was a girl with urple hair, colour-changing eyes, and an outfit that would have offended every fashion designer between there and Lothlórien. She was juggling matches – giant ones – and as Phoebe stood, she threw one directly at the Bursar's head.

It passed straight through. It was about then that Phoebe began to doubt her own sanity.

* * *

**Disclaimer:** All Discworld canon characters and locations are the creations of Sir Terry Pratchett. The Official Fanfiction University concept is the creation of Miss Cam. Phoebe is based on an application to OFUDisc by Fawkes Phoenix. All other students are based on applications to OFUDisc. All details of (and mistakes in) plot, narrative and dialogue are mine. Thanks to the Irish Samurai for betaing.

**Author's Note:** I've never been quite sure whether Lindyellwen is _really_ as dumb as she sounds. I mean, she _can't_ be... right?

I like to imagine that the first wizard on the Disc could only count up to one. "How many wizards are there in the world? One! And that's me. So _you_ must be an imposter..."


	7. Chapter 6

"She called herself Llama," Phoebe explained quietly as the girls walked to their next class. "Said she was the anthropomorphic personification of insanity."

"And she's a _student_?" Penny repeated. "I wouldn't have thought they'd allow that level of... well, okay, there's you, but..."

"So where is she now?" Liliac asked, looking over the class. "She sounds like my sort of person."

Phoebe shook her head. "I can't see her unless I'm on call," she said. "See, I just put the Death of Fangirls thing in the notes, but hers is her species. She's on the job _all the time_."

"Must be nice to be able to skip class, though," Cazzie mused. Phoebe smiled wryly.

"Apparently she's still required to go," she pointed out. "All the work, none of the social perks..."

"And speaking of society," Liliac put in as they entered the classroom – still in Unseen University! Ridcully must have been livid – "has anyone else noticed we're getting a bit thin on the ground?"

Phoebe looked around and frowned. At least a third of the seats were empty. "Did you go on a spree while we weren't looking?" Cazzie whispered, and Phoebe could only shake her head in bewilderment.

"... on the Disc is _that_?" Lucy2 exclaimed loudly, standing up and pointing to the front of the room. All eyes turned to the podium, where a large chest on hundreds of little legs had just walked in.

In amongst the students, the one member of the class incapable of sitting on a chair started to bounce on her own countless legs. No one was quite sure of her name – 'Traveller' or 'Wanderer' was as close as her rather wooden mime could come – but given what she'd put her species down as, she clearly had some sort of Thing for-

"It's the Luggage," Liliac said loudly, and Phoebe turned to see her friend leaning forward with an enraptured expression. "And just look at those rivets," the girl with the blonde streaks added in a sigh. "What I wouldn't give to-" She cut off, actually blushing, and Cazzie snorted.

"Of all things, Lili – you fancy the woodwork?"

"Oh, like you can talk," Liliac snapped back. "At least the object of my affections wouldn't snap in half if I gave it a hug!"

Cazzie's temper flared. "Legolas isn't a-" she began, and then stopped dead.

It wasn't just her. The entire room had fallen silent, as if the Luggage at the front had cleared its throat ominously – but it didn't even have a throat to clear. What it did have, as its lid slowly creaked open, was OFUDisc Class Two's undivided attention.

One of the girls in the front row edged forward, and Liliac tensed. "Be careful!" she hissed. The student – Mercuria – threw her a puzzled look, then peered into the animate chest – from a safe distance, naturally.

"It's full of, um, saws," she reported. "I don't know what-"

The Luggage bucked slightly, and Liliac let out a strangled cry as one of the saws flew out – but Mercuria's reflexes were lightning-fast, and she caught it one-handed. The Luggage angled its lid slightly and gave her a Look, or what would have been a Look if it had possessed eyes, and she stepped back hurriedly. "Um," she said. "I think it wants... everyone to have one?"

Liliac stood and practically skipped forward, all her tension of the moment before gone. "Well," she said over her shoulder as Phoebe rose to follow her, "if I absolutely _have_ to..."

The lesson only got more surreal after that. Somehow – no-one could ever be clear on exactly who had fathomed it, or how – the girls got the idea that their intimidating teacher wanted them to remodel their desks into items of baggage. Of course, it was hardly in a position to offer guidance (although it was very good at letting them know when they'd done something wrong), and fangirls aren't the multiverse's greatest carpenters...

After giving up on her own pitiful efforts in favour of watching Lucy2's attempt to use 'magickckck' to reshape the wood, Phoebe was quite relieved to feel the now-familiar call of the Duty. She threw a nod to Llama – who was running around giggling and knocking over people's efforts and generally being a royal pain – gripped her scythe, and slipped out of the classroom.

The pull of her enhanced senses led her right out of the University and into the seething heart of Ankh-Morpork. As she stalked the bustling streets – then realised she was doing it and carefully switched to plain walking – she caught occasional glimpses of mini-Luggages keeping pace with her. Then she was crossing a wide street – and the Patrician's Palace stood before her. Swallowing, she strode through the wall and went on the hunt.

The first dead student wasn't hard to find. She lay just inside the doorway, a bored-looking guard standing by with his pike – or halberd, or whatever – still stained with her blood. Phoebe ignored him and focussed on her charge. The student's spirit was sitting by her body, a picture of utter misery – despair, even. Phoebe knelt by the sobbing form and waited.

"It's not fair!" the girl wailed at last, looking up at her with a translucent, tear-streaked face. "I come this far, and I didn't even get to see him! Why do _they_ get all the luck?"

"Uh." Phoebe shook her head slightly and peered at the girl. "You know you're dead, right?"

"Well, duh," the girl snorted. "We all knew _that_ would happen, but I should've gotten to see him first!"

Clearly, Phoebe decided, this fangirl was even more addled than most. She pulled an hourglass out of her robe and glanced at the label, then lined up her scythe and swung.

"Sirius Skylighter," she said as the spirit flinched from the blade, "get you gone. You're-" Then one of the minis lunged forward, and there was no point continuing. Phoebe lowered her weapon, preparing for the transition back to mortality – but the Duty pulled her onwards. Throwing a puzzled look at the minis, she stalked further into the palace.

The story with the next casualty, the improbably-named Sliver, was much the same, except that misery was replaced by anger. It was a great satisfaction to swing the scythe and declare, "Sliver, your time has-" And then a mini (Phoebe recognised her old friend Ygor) leapt forward. Phoebe scowled.

"You need to stop doing that," she scolded the little misspelling. It regarded her impassively with its dented name-tag, and scampered off.

The Duty led Phoebe down dusty, narrow corridors, past the occasional triggered trap (this was the Patrician's Palace, after all), until finally she came to a _very_ recently-fired wall-mounted crossbow, a huddled figure against the wall opposite... and the madly-grinning shade of Kaitlyn.

"Did you see?" she exclaimed as Phoebe came to an uncertain halt. "Did you see him? He came right through here! That floorboard you're standing on – _his shoe_ touched that!"

"Er." Phoebe actually took an involuntary step backwards. "Who are we talking about, exactly?"

Kaitlyn stared at her. "_Him_, of course – Vetinari."

"... this is all about the Patrician?" Phoebe asked, honestly baffled. The whole 'skinny and intimidating' thing had never appealed to her in the slightest. Kaitlyn sniffed.

"Well, _of course_," she said. "I spotted him in the crowd after shaking off Siri and Sliver, and I _think_ I touched his coat! I mean," she noted, "it _might_ have been Drumknott _actually_, but I _believe_."

"... were there any more of you?" Phoebe asked, compromising on what she _wanted_ to ask, which was 'Do you ever stop talking?'. Kaitlyn frowned.

"Well, there was that goth girl, but _she_ ran off as soon as we got inside. Hey," she interrupted herself, "did you know his hair is absolutely luscious? I'd love to know what he uses – I can't get that sort of result even with molasses..." She was still talking when the Seedier Waggler swallowed her whole.

The Duty didn't let Phoebe go, but it didn't guide her any further, either. Trusting (unwillingly) Kaitlyn's vague descriptions, she hurried up the corridor, ducked through a door (without bothering to open it, of course), and found herself in an airy attic. Her eyes darted from the painting on its easel, to the intricate mechanical contrivance, to the pair talking quietly by the window – one of whom was a thankfully-unmolested Lord Vetinari. Phoebe breathed a sigh of relief – and a black shape swooped down from the rafters.

Afterwards, Phoebe decided that Vetinari must have had his hand on the curtain all along. There was no other possible way for him to have twitched it back that fast, letting a brilliant ray of sunlight in at _just_ the right angle to catch the descending vampire full in the face. The dust settled onto the bare floor, a black cape falling beside it, and the Patrician lowered his hand.

"Your attention will not be required for this one, I think," Vetinari said, not turning his head. "We will return Miss... Yukimona to your masters shortly." He lifted a hand and made a brief flicking motion. "Pray don't let me detain you."

Phoebe was pretty sure the fabric of space-time was seriously wounded by the speed of her departure. She _ran_, feeling her powers fading out as she went, and she was pretty sure her restored red ponytail got its ends trimmed by the last wall she was able to run through – the outer wall of Unseen U. She made her way down the corridors to the classroom, nodding absently in reply to Liliac's relieved look, and then blinked in surprise. Her friends had apparently decided to work together, and had finished a full-scale replica of the Luggage – one which Liliac was now carving hearts all over.

"Well," said a voice behind Phoebe, and she practically jumped out of her skin: it was the Administrator from Ridcully's lesson. "It seems your colleagues are learning something after all, Death of Fangirls."

"Um," Phoebe managed. "Yes?" Across the classroom a tower of sticks collapsed, leaving Andy stranded in the ruins as Saphie tried to charge the Administrator – only to trip over Phoenix Flight and land on Iplis (who didn't seem to mind). Phoebe turned to look at the Administrator, and found herself face-to-face with...

"Becky?" she exclaimed, and the other girl gave a sullen wave. The Admin sniffed.

"In accordance with OFUDisc policy," he explained, "I'm returning yesterday's casualties to your class. We can't have them missing too much schooling, after all, can we?"

"Uh, no," Phoebe agreed, and swallowed. "On the subject of missing school..."

The Admin's lips set into a thin line as he surveyed the room. "Ah," he said dryly, "I see."

* * *

**Disclaimer:** All Discworld canon characters and locations are the creations of Sir Terry Pratchett. The Official Fanfiction University concept is the creation of Miss Cam. Phoebe is based on an application to OFUDisc by Fawkes Phoenix. All other students are based on applications to OFUDisc. All details of (and mistakes in) plot, narrative and dialogue are mine. Thanks to the Irish Samurai for betaing.

**Author's Note:** And the deaths continue – and the returns. And yes, as it happens, Saphie _did_ specify on her enrollment form that her lust object was the Administrator. Never let it be said we don't do things for people...


	8. Chapter 7

That night, Class Two's dormitory was home to twenty young(ish) women, one (invisible) anthropomorphic personification – and one piece of clockwork.

"It's not fair!" Esme Something declared stridently from where she lay, ticking softly, on her bed. "The paperwork asked what you wanted to be brought back as, right? Well, I wanted to be in the City Watch!"

"Don't blame you," Tisea murmured, and Saphie nodded in agreement. They were both Vimes lusters (although Saphie also had other tastes), and Phoebe found it hard to keep herself from nodding along. Esme... probably would have scowled, had her face been anything other than the sort with numbers.

"So I put it down, and what do they make me? A freaking timepiece!"

"You may have meant... what you said," Raen said quietly, cleaning her nails with a butter knife (a substitute for the daggers she hadn't been allowed to bring), "but what you _wrote_..."

"... was just 'Watch', I know," Esme finished in a disgusted tone. "I didn't know they'd take it like _that_!"

"Should've been more careful, then," Nenya murmured. "Words are important, you know."

"Psst!" hissed a total non-whisper from next to Phoebe's bed, and she turned to see, of all people, Lucy2 kneeling there. "You're the death girl, right?"

"Um... yes?" Phoebe offered. Lucy2 nodded.

"Good. Then we need you. Sorry."

Phoebe blinked – and the sudden pain in her head told her that her eyes would be closed for a long-

"... _quite_ so hard."

"You do it next time, then, Iplis!" Lucy2's voice screeched as Phoebe drifted back to consciousness. "If you don't like my plans-"

"She's awake," another voice cut her off, and someone leaned into Phoebe's line of sight. "Hi there, Phoebe. I'm Mercuria. I'm an elf, like you."

"No you're-" Phoebe bit down on the instinctive denial. "What happened?" she asked instead. "Who hit me? And why, I ask in all honesty, am I lying on a suitcase?"

The 'suitcase' in question bucked suddenly underneath her, tipping her to the cold flagstones of the corridor. "Oh," Phoebe managed to wheeze. "Sorry, Traveller. But really, what's going on?"

"We're escaping," Mercuria explained as Phoebe climbed painfully to her feet. "I mean, this place is horrible, and, well..."

"_And_, they've poisoned darling Ponder into hating me," Lucy2 cut in. "I'm going to find him and magickckck him back!"

"I'm just going along to watch," another girl, Gaia, said quietly. She'd been one of the most vigorous Stibbons-glompers, and bore the bruises to prove it.

"As for me, I just want to get out of here," Iplis put in. "It's no fun at _all_, and Penny doesn't – never mind."

"And I haven't seen hide nor hair of Otto," Mercuria finished. "If they don't care enough to let us see him, I don't care enough to stay here."

Phoebe swallowed a 'Who's Otto?' and glanced at the Luggage accompanying them. "We don't know," Gaia pre-empted her. "She wanted to come – would you have turned her down?"

"All right," Phoebe said, rubbing her aching head. "But, er... why did you decide to abduct me on the way?"

"Your powers," whispered Lucy2 in a hushed voice. "With your powers over death, you can keep us safe from harm. You are the _key_ to our plan!" She met Phoebe's eyes, attempting to project confidence and inquiry in the same gaze, and succeeding... about as well as Phoebe expected. "Now – will you help us?"

"... er." Phoebe ran a hand through her hair. "I'm not even sure I _have_ that sort of power... and I'm certain I don't while I'm not on Duty."

"Well, go on duty, then!" Lucy2 snapped, ignoring the increasingly-nervous looks she was getting from the rest of her crew. "It's a simple enough request," she went on, wheedling now. "We'll even drop you off with _your_ Lust Object... what better offer could you get?"

"It doesn't work like that," Phoebe tried to explain, exasperated. "I only get them when somebody dies, you understand?"

"... oh." Lucy2 looked distinctly nonplussed. "Well, what good is that? No-one's dying tonight!"

And that, of course, was when the floor fell away.

It was a long fall. Exactly how long, Phoebe never cared to speculate, but long enough for her to find the time amid her screams to reflect on the cruel nature of narrative comedy.

Lucy2 "Diamanda2" Tockley2-Stibbons was screaming too, but hers seemed less like fear of death and closer to useless magickckck incantations. Mercuria's face had turned grey – her Disc elf glamour falling away with the panic to reveal her true face. Gaia was praying quietly to some god or other, Iplis had started flapping her arms as if she expected to fly, and Traveller...

... was somehow falling faster than the rest of them, tumbling end over end, in defiance of all the laws of physics.

Somewhat later, Penny pointed out that the Discworld ran fundamentally on belief – and that almost everyone, deep down, truly believes that a heavy wooden box will fall faster than a person. All Phoebe knew at the time was that the animate sea chest hit the bottom of the pit a full half-second ahead of her co-conspirators – that she hit hard enough to crack clean in two – and that the Death of Fangirls landed with a scythe in her hand and a job or five to do.

* * *

**Disclaimer:** All Discworld canon characters and locations are the creations of Sir Terry Pratchett. The Official Fanfiction University concept is the creation of Miss Cam. Phoebe is based on an application to OFUDisc by Fawkes Phoenix. All other students are based on applications to OFUDisc. All details of (and mistakes in) plot, narrative and dialogue are mine. Thanks to the Irish Samurai for betaing.

**Author's Note:** What do you mean physics doesn't work that way?


	9. Chapter 8

"I can't believe you killed her!"

"I didn't kill _anyone_," Phoebe snapped. "She fell down a hole. I just did the cleaning up."

"But you let her fall!" Liliac insisted. Phoebe scowled and lengthened her stride.

"It's her own fault, and she'll be back soon anyway. Look, what's Mercuria to you, anyway? You barely know the girl."

Liliac shrugged uncomfortably. "She's an elf," she failed to explain. "You know how it is."

"She's not an-" Phoebe bit off the sentence. "No, I don't know. Can you be any clearer?"

"Not really," Liliac said. "Just call it a Thing, okay?"

"Somewhat like your Death 'thing'," a new voice said, and the girls turned to see the Administrator walking at their side. He had an escort of mini-Luggages, and a pained expression as he looked over the seventeen remaining members of Class Two. "Speaking of which, I don't suppose there's any chance you could cut back?"

"Um?" Phoebe squeaked. "No? No. It doesn't work that way. Um, sir."

"Ah, well," the Administrator sighed. "Your colleagues will be returning shortly. It wouldn't do for them to miss their schooling, after all." He turned to go, but a thin girl stepped in front of him, blocking his way.

"Hi!" she said brightly. "I'm Andy! My friend wants to know if you'd like to go out for a meal with her, only she thinks you're totally hot." She grinned over her shoulder at Saphie, who was cringing and trying to hide behind Tisea.

The Administrator glanced between the two of them, and then said flatly, "No. That would be _beyond_ wildly inappropriate."

"Okay," Andy said cheerfully. "Then do you want to come back to the dorm tonight? Because I'm sure she-"

"I'm leaving now," the Administrator stated, stepped down a side street, and was out of sight. Andy's grin grew wider as she finished her sentence.

"-would love to play cards or something with you." She glanced around at Class Two. "What? Did you think I meant something else?"

"Right, that's enough comedic banter," a stern voice said, and a door ahead of them opened to reveal a white-haired woman in severe black clothes. "Hurry along, don't dawdle."

"Susan!" squealed two voices, and Phoenix Flight hurried forward carrying the brass shape of Esme Something. "You are totally awesome!" Phoenix went on. "I've been _dying_ to meet you! Are you teaching us? What class is this?"

"I hope it's romance," Esme cut in, using what was probably meant to be a seductive voice. "You know, there's a lot of things you can do with clockwork..."

"I'm sure there are," Susan said in a cold voice that utterly silenced her two fangirls. "Now, if you will all take your seats... I believe your classmates will be arriving shortly."

"We're here already," a low voice said, and Phoebe turned to see Yukimona, nine other girls in evening dress (including a black-painted Traveler – the label on her lifetimer had finally settled the debate - and an Iplis who threw Penny a befanged grin and a wink), the spectral form of Hawkelf... and a very nervous-looking Kaitlyn, who scurried forward into the cramped classroom and took a too-small seat behind Phoebe and her friends.

"They're all vampires now!" she whispered, in what was probably the least-necessary exposition on record. "The Administrator brought them back, and then he had Yukimona- well, you know," she cut herself off, as the aforementioned vampire shot a look at her.

"Seriously?" Liliac said, studying the back of Mercuria's head as the vampire posse settled in (managing to come across as elegant even though the chairs were designed for ten-year-olds). "Why vampires?"

"They have seen the light of darkness," said Yukimona without turning her head. "Perhaps someday, you too will join us."

"Somehow I doubt it," Liliac muttered, but Cazzie reached over to touch her arm, and she sat back.

"Settle down _now._" Miss Susan's voice cut through the chatter like a suitably interesting simile, driving straight into the fangirls' brains and silencing them instantly. A slow smile blossomed on her face. "Good. Now, who can tell me what a Mary-Sue is?"

Every hand in the room shot up, Phoebe's among them. She was thinking of her character Firebird, who had been (eight years ago, she vaguely recalled) a member of the City Watch, had defeated an invading army from her homeland of Krysanthemum (a sort of enlightened totalitarian theocracy), and had won Vimes' heart. People had called her a Mary-Sue, which really meant she was a strong, empow-

"Anyone who uses the words 'empowered', 'liberated' or – gods save you – 'amazing' will be spending the night in the company of the mini-Luggages," Susan added, and Phoebe's hand dropped – along with most of the rest. Well, if Mary-Sues weren't awesome characters every girl wanted to be, what _were_ they?

Miss Susan looked puzzled, but Phoebe realised it wasn't at the number of lowered hands – rather, it was the five still raised that were giving her trouble. "All right," she said sceptically, "I'll bite. You. Tell me."

"Mary-Sue is a fantasy," said Nenya Quende, "created independently by individual fangirls to give them an outlet for their most outlandish dreams. She-"

"Now you," Susan cut her off.

"She is a blight on the Word Worlds," Raen said grimly. "Death is too good for her."

"True enough," Susan agreed. "You?"

"Er, well, they're just badly-written," Kaitlyn offered, looking uncomfortable at the attention. "They're characters who take the canon and warp it to their own ends."

"Good," Susan said, and pointed at a white glove on the end of a wood-and-brass appendage. "Assuming that's someone – your thoughts?"

"It's Some_thing_, actually," said Esme, "and I don't know about Merry Sues, but would you like to-"

"No," Susan cut her off, and pointed at the last hand – Penny. "Do you have anything relevant to say?"

Penny shrugged. "Just that Sues are often wish-fulfilment," she offered quietly. "The problem is, in the course of getting what they want, very few writers bother to consider what is actually _possible_."

There was a long pause, and then Susan nodded slowly. "I'm actually marginally impressed," she admitted. "Your fellow students" – a word she pronounced as if it were a synonym for 'delinquents' – "in the other classes couldn't offer a single non-sparkly description." She considered the four for a moment before asking, "How many of you are with the PPC?" A ripple went through the room at the mention of those three simple letters – at least through the half of the room which didn't already know the answer.

"Department of Mary-Sues," Penny admitted, and Raen nodded along. Nenya frowned.

"Former DMS," she said. "Can't quite remember why I applied _now_, but..."

"Never mind that," Susan cut in quickly. "And you?"

"Oh," said Kaitlyn, "um. Character Protective Services? We're – we were, really, I think things changed after I retired – sort of... quasi-PPC."

"Yes, I've met a few of your fellow caseworkers," Susan said. "Very well. The rest of you should pay close attention to what these young women say. As associates of the Protectors of the Plot Continuum, they seem to actually have working common-sense lobes in their brains, which is a rarity around here.

"Now, to continue. We will first consider the Spectrum of Suvian Species, with particular focus on the _Puella perfecta_ and _Filia gratuita_ breeds..."

* * *

**Disclaimer:** All Discworld canon characters and locations are the creations of Sir Terry Pratchett. The Official Fanfiction University concept is the creation of Miss Cam. The Protectors of the Plot Continuum is the creation of Jay and Acacia. Phoebe is based on an application to OFUDisc by Fawkes Phoenix. All other students are based on applications to OFUDisc. All details of (and mistakes in) plot, narrative and dialogue are mine. Thanks to the Irish Samurai for betaing.

**Author's Note:** Thanks also go to the PPC's Department of Mary-Sue Experiments and Research for information on the biological classification of Mary-Sues and Gary-Stus.

For more information on the Protectors of the Plot Continuum, please visit the _Ispace Files_ blog linked from my profile, where you will find a summary of who we are, along with links to further resources.


	10. Chapter 9

"Do you know," said Phoebe as they walked out of Ankh and into the Ramtops, "I think that's the first lesson we've actually finished."

"Oh, surely not," Cazzie disagreed. "We finished woodwork, right?"

"If you call that 'finished'," Phoebe retorted. "Did _anyone_ do the actual work?"

"We did," chimed in Liliac, "didn't we, Pen- oh." Penny was deep in conversation with Iplis, and didn't even seem to notice Liliac's question. "Well, anyway," the girl with multicoloured hair went on, "we totally finished our idol – I mean, project."

"And then there was Pretty Butterfly's class," Cazzie pointed out. "Remember, she – oh, that's right, you were busy."

"Okay," Phoebe said, giving in, "I guess what I mean is, that's the first class _I've_ finished."

"No argument there," Liliac agreed. "Shiftless layabout, that's you."

"Um," said a new voice, and the girls noticed Kaitlyn nervously tap Iplis on the shoulder. "Sorry to bother you, ma'am..."

"You don't need to be so skittish," Iplis said with a smile (carefully calibrated not to show her fangs). "I don't bite, if you can believe that."

"It's not you I'm worried about," Kaitlyn muttered, "it's Yuk-" She stopped abruptly, glanced quickly over her shoulder at where the rest of the vampires were walking as a single swarm, and continued with, "anyway, could we borrow your, um, Penny for a few minutes?"

"She's not my anything," Iplis said mildly, with an emphatic, unspoken 'yet'. Penny glanced at her, then nodded slightly.

"What do you need, Kaitlyn?" she asked, following the black-haired girl away – away, in fact, to where Raen and Nenya were talking in quiet tones.

From where she stood, Phoebe could only hear snatches of their conversation. 'Far too close together' came from Nenya, and 'have you noticed we're' from Raen – and then, after Penny had arrived and received a whispered explanation, "I know! I've been keeping a list-" before she was hushed.

The mountains rose around Class Two, and before too long they came to a castle that could best be described as 'rickety and ramshackle'. Igor vanished into the background, leaving the girls in the company of the rather uncomfortable-looking gate guard.

"Greetings, ladies and... ladies," he said, both hands twitching towards salutes before he realised that, for once, he wasn't out-ranked. "Their majesties await you in the courtyard."

"Majesties?" repeated Kisheara from the vampire contingent. "Ve get to meet royalty?"

"Ooh! I know this one!" called Lindyellwen. "We're in Banker, right?" She ignored the winces from those around her – and the flinch from Hawkelf's ghost – as what seemed to be a cottage-shaped teapot appeared at her feet. "That means we must be here to see, you know... _Verence_."

Phoebe blinked. _Well, that was odd_, she mused as they passed through the gate. She hadn't thought Lindyellwen had a correctly-spelled bone in her body.

A soft gasp rippled through Class Two as they saw the vermine-robed figure waiting diffidently ahead of them – and, perhaps more importantly, the steel-clad, spike-coated visage behind his right shoulder.

"Hello, um, I mean, greetings," the King of Lancre said. "I understand you're here to learn about, um, romance?"

Grins started to form on the faces of several of the girls – Phoebe was sure she saw Lindyellwen actually give a little jump of joy – and then the armoured figure took a clanking step forward and raised its visor.

"Let's lay down some ground rules," said Magrat Garlick. "This is my husband; you will not come near him. We have been informed of what you are, and believe me, here in Lancre we know all about creatures from other dimensions." She smiled, almost cheerfully. "I understand there are even some genuine elves among you. I will draw your attention to the large axe I am holding, and yes, I _do_ know how to use it."

A murmur went through the group, and Phoebe shared their alarm – though she thought Liliac's reaction a bit much. The other girl suddenly looked abjectly terrified, and darted over to Lindyellwen's side. Phoebe only heard snatches of the conversation: 'to be careful' from Liliac, and 'can't die' from Lindyellwen, to which Liliac loudly retorted, "No, but you can still be hideously maimed!"

Lindyellwen just laughed. Phoebe didn't think this was going to go well.

It took about ten seconds for her prediction to become reality. Verence coughed and said, "Right. The Art of Romance is not something in which I claim to be an expert, but my experience has-"

"-made you perfect for me!" Lindyellwen exclaimed, launching herself forward. Liliac cried out in horror as Magrat swung the axe in a gleaming arc which ended with the student flat on the ground, clutching her arm. "Ow?" she gasped. "What? Ow?"

"Perhaps I didn't make myself _clear_," Magrat said through gritted teeth, raising the axe over her head. "Leave. My husband. _Alone!_"

"_Stop_!" Liliac bellowed, charging forward as the axe began to fall and grabbing the handle. "I can't allow this to continue."

"Can't _allow?_" Magrat repeated in disbelief. "And who are _you_, exactly?"

Liliac grinned at her over the axe, her teeth showing white. "The name's Liliac," she said, "Head of Assignments and Acting Director of the Interdimensional Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Elves. And _you_, Your Majesty – in fact this whole university – are in violation of Ispace Rule One."

As Magrat and Class Two stared in bewilderment, she released the axe and lifted a silver machine from her belt. "Aranel?" she said, pressing a large blue button. "Case Thranduil. Execute."

She lowered the device with a smug expression, and Magrat shook herself slightly. "I don't know what you think you're doing," she said, "but-"

There was a sound that was more of an absence, like the ending of a thousand-year rain shower. As the crowd watched in bewildered horror, the air at the centre of the courtyard began to pinch in upon itself, warping their view of the far wall. The light coming through the pinch reddened as the effect increased, until at last a crimson halo surrounded a point so black it hurt to look at.

"Twist stabilised," Liliac said, breaking the absolute silence. "Spin her up."

The pinch pulsed with black light, once, twice, three times, and then the dark centre sprang suddenly outwards to form a ring, a frame for the blue circle that blazed at the heart of the pinch.

Something came through. One moment the watchers were staring in awe, the next a furry shape leapt out of the blue and landed on the flagstones. Phoebe gaped. Was that a _platypus_?

"Platy," said Liliac, "where are the others?"

"It's good to see you, too, boss," the platypus growled through its beak. Liliac snorted.

"Sorry. Hi, how are you?"

"They're asleep," the platypus supplied. "It's like half eleven back home, Liliac. You're just lucky the Noble Platypus has foregone her rest in favour of getting you out of trouble."

"I'm not the one in trouble," Liliac said firmly. "We have five elves here."

"One," Phoebe muttered, and her friend glanced over at her.

"Phoebe," she said, "sorry to spring this on you, but can you get Lindyellwen? I don't think she's coping too well."

That, Phoebe decided, was an understatement. The fangirl in question was curled up on the floor around her missing hand, still whimpering 'Ow?' in a tone of disbelief. Phoebe knelt next to her and tried in vain to get her to move, vaguely aware of Liliac's continuing instructions.

"Tisea, Mercuria, Phoenix Flight, with me. Let's move, ladies, the bridge won't stay open forever."

"No one is going anywhere," said a steely voice, and Magrat stepped in front of the blue flaw in reality, her axe raised. "This is _my_ kingdom, and-"

"These claws are artificial, you know," said a cheerful voice from her leg, and she looked down to see Platy latched carefully on. "Only male platypuses actually grow venomous claws, so I had to have some made." She grinned up at the Queen of Lancre. "They're adamantium-tipped and coated with curare, so I wouldn't count on that armour protecting you."

"What are-?" Magrat gasped, and Platy chuckled.

"Oh, we know you, Magrat Elfbane. If it wasn't for the Nearest-And-Dearest exception to Rule One, you'd already be dead for all the pain you've caused to elvenkind. Now shut up before I forget about that exception."

"Play nice, Platy," Liliac said, ushering the three elves towards the bridge. "We don't want to cause more ripples than we have to. Now, I-"

She stopped dead, as if walking into an invisible wall. A frown formed on her face, and she reached out to feel ahead of her. "That's odd, I-"

"You didn't _really_ think you could just walk out, did you?" said a soft voice, and Class Two turned to see the Administrator standing by the gate. "We do have rules at this university, you know – and one of them is that you stay on campus at all times."

Liliac glared at him. "What, you're saying you planned for Einstein-Rosen bridges?"

The Administrator shrugged. "We plan for everything," he said mildly. "Please tell your colleague to release the canon character. Now."

"Hey," Platy spoke up, "aren't you-?"

"Apparently not," Liliac cut her off, disgusted. "He does look a lot like him, but they're completely different – and he doesn't recognise me."

"You're one of the students I have a responsibility for," the Administrator said. "That's all I need to know. Now: close that portal or I shall be forced to start resorting to... many things."

"Ugh," Liliac muttered. "Fine. Platy – Case Dobby. Get lost."

The platypus grinned. "Got it, boss. Elfbane – watch yourself." She dropped to the ground and ran through the blue gate, which vanished a few moments later with a soft sucking sound.

"Good," the Administrator said, and glanced over his shoulder. "Of course, there is still the matter of the rules you've broken by _trying_ to leave."

Liliac snorted and folded her arms. "Right. What are you going to do, throw me in-?"

Phoebe barely had time to grab her scythe as the mini-Luggages leapt.

* * *

**Disclaimer:** All Discworld canon characters and locations are the creations of Sir Terry Pratchett. The Official Fanfiction University concept is the creation of Miss Cam. The Interdimensional Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Elves is my invention, and its operatives are based on applications to join. Phoebe is based on an application to OFUDisc by Fawkes Phoenix. All other students are based on applications to OFUDisc. All details of (and mistakes in) plot, narrative and dialogue are mine. Thanks to the Irish Samurai for betaing.

**Author's Note:** Ispace! It's been a while since I've seen these guys... they were founded about a decade ago to do, well, exactly what it says on the tin – 'Protect the Elves, beat up everyone else!'. For more information, and the original Ispace story, take a look at the OFUDisc Files linked from my profile.


	11. Chapter 10

"Well, Lindy's settled in with the doctor," Cazzie said, walking into the dormitory. "He said he'd give her a hearty meal of oats and put her in the pasture overnight, but I _think_ he was joking."

"Probably not," Penny said absently, leaning back against Iplis. "That sounds like Doughnut Jimmy. He usually treats racehorses."

"Why does it not surprise me," asked Mercuria loudly, "that this shamble of a university can't afford a real doctor?"

"Ignoramus," Raen snorted. "Everyone knows Doughnut Jimmy – Doctor James Folsom, I should say – is the best medical practitioner in Ankh."

"We're not all as obsessive-compulsive about these things as you, Assassin," Mercuria snapped back, and Raen's butter knife seemed to teleport to her hand.

"Insult me again", the PPCer said in a low voice. "I dare you."

"_I_ thought," Cazzie interrupted loudly, "there was a new doctor in the latest books. Doctor Lunch or something."

Raen stared at her. The brief silence was broken by the 'pop' of an ambulatory black plastic lunchbox appearing.

"I think you mean Doctor Lawn," Raen said slowly. "And I had... forgotten him."

"Well," Phoebe put in, "what _I_ want to know is what on the Disc happened with Liliac. I mean, who did she say she was with? The Interdimensional...?"

"Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Elves," Tisea supplied, and held up a folded piece of paper. "She gave me a flyer."

"Great," Phoebe deadpanned. "I get the Amazing Handless Girl, you get a pamphlet – she's a regular Hogfather, isn't she?"

As was usual in after-hours dormitory discussions (or at least, as far as 'usually' can exist after only a handful of days) a cluster had formed in the middle of the floor, the girls wrapped in their blankets as they sat or stood. As the core were the four remaining elves – Phoebe, Tisea, Mercuria and Phoenix Flight. Tindomiel and Andy hung around nearby, waiting to see if their 'distant elvish ancestry' (or 'wannabe-elfness', as Phoebe always thought of it) would give them an in on the conversation. Naturally that meant Saphie was sitting with them...

And so it went on. Tisea and Phoenix Flight seemed to have managed to escape any hangers-on, but Phoebe's friends were there – Cazzie sat at Phoebe's shoulder, her minor victory over Raen granting her that right in the dorm's political environment. Penny was still sitting with – although Phoebe thought 'snuggled against' was closer to the mark – Iplis, who seemed in two minds as to whether she was with Phoebe's group, or the handful of vampires behind Mercuria.

"It says here," Tisea announced, frowning at the pamphlet, "that 'Ispace places the highest priority on its operatives' needs, and our en-suite residential apartments are designed by the greatest architects and decorators in the multiverse.'"

"Yeah, right," Nenya snorted from her bed. "Sounds like the stuff we got from the PPC. Half the year as holiday and gourmet packed lunches, and what did we get? 'Evildoers and friends of Cam' followed very quickly by 'You're hired, your basic pay is zero'." She shook her head, recalling. "They actually claimed HQ had a pool, if you can believe it."

Amid the laughter of those who knew the PPC's sprawling HQ – Nenya, Raen, Penny and Kaitlyn – Tisea glanced up from her perusal of the leaflet. "It's funny you should mention that," she said, "because apparently Ispace Mountain has-"

"So what do they _do_?" interrupted Kai. "This recruitment spiel is all well and good, but who _are_ they, that they sent Liliac here to interfere with things?"

"I don't think I'd say _interfere_," Penny disagreed, sitting up and frowning at the vampire. "It seemed more like she was trying to achieve something specific."

"Well, it would certainly have 'interfered' with the elves' Learning-Through-Pain," Iplis laughed, and Phoebe didn't think anyone else spotted the look she shot at Kai. "But Pen's right – they were after something specific. What did they want the elves for?"

"Apparently that's just what they do," Tisea reported, still reading. "Listen to this. 'Almost ten years after its foundation by the renowned Glorfindel of Rivendell, Ispace has become a truly multiversal organisation, defending and protecting elves of all worlds from all unwarranted aggression."

"Well, as the only elf here – no, sorry, as _an_ elf," Phoebe corrected herself, "I'm certainly in favour of being protected."

"And that 'unwarranted' part must explain what the platypus said to Magrat about friends and relations," Mercuria mused. "I wonder if-"

"_I_ wonder that they'd bother defending fangirl elves at all," Raen cut in. "Surely people like," she paused and glanced around, "all right, like Lindyellwen don't _deserve_ protecting."

"Yeah, they mention that," Tisea reported. "Apparently 'Ispace rejects the unnatural division of Elvenkind into 'canon' and 'uncanon'; such pejorative slurs as 'fangirl' and 'Mary-Sue' serve only to blind the Multiverse to the universality of Elvenhood and the truth that all elves are in dire need of protection.'"

A ripple of shock ran through the room, taking in far more than simply the four PPCers. Andy's mouth dropped open, Saphie gasped aloud, and Yukimona actually seemed to go weak at the knees. Hawkelf's ghost wavered and vanished for a moment, reappearing up near the ceiling. None of which forestalled Raen jumping to her feet and marching over to snatch the flyer from Tisea's fingers.

"'Traditional respect for canon married to a modern perspective'? 'Consideration for the rights of all living things'? 'Imperative to separate authors and their creations'? Oh, very pretty words for a bunch of Suethor apologists!" the Assassin snarled.

"Hey, now," said Vee mildly, "this is Liliac we're talking about. I always thought she knew quite a lot about canon."

"Clearly she was swotting up so she could eviscerate it," Raen snapped, waving the pamphlet in the air. "I should have expected it – she was at a university for fangirl idiots, after all."

"Hey!" went up a cry from around the room – with the loudest objections coming from Lucy2, Esme, Becky and Sliver – and, rather surprisingly (to Phoebe, at least), Kaitlyn. Raen sneered.

"What? Suethors, the lot of you. I can't believe I volunteered for this."

Amidst the general uproar, Lucy2's voice rose above all the others. "You have insulted me for the last time!" she yelled, and threw her arms wide. "Fear my magickckck!"

"What _I_ want to know," Cazzie said, leaning forward to murmur in Phoebe's ear and completely ignoring the chaos erupting around them, "is what was going on with the Administrator."

"You heard that too?" Phoebe muttered back. "Yes, they clearly knew him from somewhere – and equally clearly didn't think he was the same person. Any thoughts?"

"Not a one," Cazzie shrugged, and ducked underneath a book thrown by Becky. "I just thought it was interesting. And now, shall we find cover? I think things are about to get messy in here."

* * *

**Disclaimer:** All Discworld canon characters and locations are the creations of Sir Terry Pratchett. The Official Fanfiction University concept is the creation of Miss Cam. The Interdimensional Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Elves is my invention. Phoebe is based on an application to OFUDisc by Fawkes Phoenix. All other students are based on applications to OFUDisc. All details of (and mistakes in) plot, narrative and dialogue are mine. Thanks to the Irish Samurai for betaing.

**Author's Note:** It seems like Ispace may have changed a little since the old days...

For additional notes on some of the characters in OFUDisc, there is a character list available through the OFUDisc Files (linked from my profile).


	12. Chapter 11

A subdued Liliac rejoined Class Two as they made their daily walk from Uberwald down to Ankh-Morpork. She glanced over the column as she slipped in between Phoebe and Cazzie. "Where's Lindyellwen?" she whispered to Phoebe.

Phoebe didn't look round. "With a doctor in the city," she said in a low voice. "Are you asking because she's an elf?"

Liliac blinked. "Well, yes."

"And is that why you claimed to be my friend, too?"

"... oh." Liliac shook her head slightly. "Phoebe, protecting elves is my job, but that doesn't mean I have to like them. Personally I think Lindyellwen is a vapid waste of oxygen."

"Then why did you ask about her?" Cazzie said tautly. Liliac sighed.

"Because it's not about 'personally'. She's an _elf_, and elves are..." She shook her head. "Look, do you realise how important the elven races are to fiction? To imagination? Try and picture a world without Shakespeare's fairies, Wells' Eloi, Tolkien's Eldar – and without all the stories _inspired_ by them."

"I suppose it would be a bit less interesting," Cazzie conceded, but Liliac shook her head vehemently.

"The whole of fiction would fall apart," she said. "We know – we've checked. There's a universe where the most popular subject for fanfic is, I kid you not, _The Sound of Music_ – which has been remade six times. _That's_ what happens without elves – and it still could."

She glanced between her erstwhile friends, her expression almost pleading.

"Don't you see? Cruelty to elves is lessening people's respect for the fantastic. It doesn't matter if it's an original character torturing Legolas or the PPC killing a Mary-Sue – it turns the immortal into a joke. And if we let that happen, the human imagination will die."

"So I'm just a pawn to you," Phoebe said through gritted teeth and tear-streaked eyes. "Thanks for nothing, Liliac."

"_No_," Liliac said, "a thousand times no." She grimaced. "I'm sorry, I've just got back from being dead, my priorities are a bit scrambled. I meant to say it earlier – the fact that I _protect_ elves doesn't mean I _like_ them. I might have first spoken to you because you were an elf – but I spent time with you because I enjoyed your company. I really _am_ your friend, Phoebe – that is, if you'll let me be."

Phoebe looked at the young woman, her hands in her pockets and dark roots showing in her blonde streaks, and sighed. "Maybe, then," she relented. "But only if you promise not to try and drag me through any more wormholes."

Liliac laughed softly. "No more wormholes," she promised. "Although... oh, dear. Is that what I think it is?"

A murmur was spreading through the class, and there was a surreptitious movement towards the back of the column. It wasn't hard to see why. They were approaching the gates of Ankh-Morpork, and the familiar figure of Lindyellwen was waiting for them. Or mostly familiar – for in place of the hand Magrat had hacked off was a beautifully polished, intricately carved and extremely realistic wooden hoof.

Phoebe bit her lip and glanced at Liliac, who was working equally hard to keep from laughing.

"Respect for elves, eh?" Phoebe asked. Liliac grinned.

"Sometimes it's harder than others," she admitted. "Still, as long as nobody hits her, I think we can let this one pass."

"Good thing, too," said a new voice, and the girls turned to look – or rather, stare – at the speaker. It chewed briefly on the end of what was probably meant to be a cigarette and continued reflectively. "Mind you, I wouldn't complain about seeing that thing you did in Lancre. Sounds interesting." Somehow, the word 'interesting' managed to come with connotations of 'easy to steal and sell'.

Cazzie broke the silence. "What... _are_ you?" she asked. "Some sort of monkey in armour?"

The monkey sniffed. "Shows what you know," it said. "I'm human. Got a piece of paper to prove it."

"Oh," said Phoebe, realising. "Then you must be-"

"Corporal Nobbs, Ankh-Morpork City Watch," said Nobby Nobbs, and grimaced. "And you lot are my new students."

"Awesome!" screamed Maligna Chiroptera. "We get taught by Nobby Nobbs!"

"I love this job," Nobby said to no-one in particular, sidling up to the front of the group. "Rightio, ladies, this here is the Onion Gate of the great city of Ankh-Morpork."

"We know," called Sirius Skylighter from the back. "We've been here before."

"Oh? Good," Nobby said with a huge, beaming grin. "Then you can prob'ly take over here. How about you tell your friends all about how to get in after nightfall, and I'll go and do some actual work?"

"Er," said Sirius. "You knock?"

Nobby tsked disapprovingly. "And here I thought you were the expert," he said. "I suppose I'll have to keep-"

"I don't think that will be necessary, Corporal," said a new voice, and a tall man with red hair stepped out of the gate. "I'll take-"

"ME!" squealed the voice that cut him off, and Becky Glienna launched herself out of the crowd in a flying tackle intended to knock Captain Carrot to the ground.

She bounced off with a clang and fell to the dusty ground. Carrot didn't even flinch – just looked down at her with his big, honest face.

"I really ought to charge you with Assaulting an Officer of the Law," he said sternly, "but given the ineffectiveness of your attack, and the fact that you are a visitor to our fair city, I will let you off with a warning." He straightened up and smiled at the stunned faces of Class Two. "Now, let's begin. How many of you ladies have ever considered a career in the City Watch?"

A scattering of hands went up, including Kisheara and Phoenix Flight, and (of course) Maligna and Esme. Becky, still on the floor, raised a foot, and Phoebe was mildly surprised to see Iplis nudge Penny. "Hmm?" the PPCer mumbled, then raised a hand in response to a whisper from Iplis. Phoebe shook her head – clearly her friend wasn't getting enough sleep.

Carrot was practically beaming. "Marvellous!" he exclaimed. "Your enthusiasm for upholding the law does you credit. But apart from that obvious priority, I would be delighted to hear what else attracts you to the Watch. Perhaps you can go first, Miss... Chiroptera?"

Maligna blinked, then shrugged. "Mostly Nobby," she admitted. "He's just so awesome."

"Too right I am," called Nobby from where he leant against the gate, attempting to light his cigarette. "You've got a good one there, Captain."

"And what about you, Miss Flight?" Carrot asked, ignoring his colleague completely.

"It just seems so exciting," Phoenix Flight replied. "I mean, chasing criminals over rooftops, dodging bullets – er, arrows – that sort of thing."

For a second, a look crossed Carrot's face – something between disapproval and disappointment. Then he glanced at Nobby, gave a slight nod, and put on a surprised expression.

"My goodness," he said. "It seems Corporal Nobbs has lost control of a dangerous criminal. If only someone were to catch him for me, I would be very grateful."

In retrospect, Phoebe realised that Captain Carrot was an extremely bad actor, and that none of them ought to have been fooled for an instant. Unfortunately, at the time the collective thought process of Class Two went: There is a running man. Captain Carrot will like us if we catch him. Captain Carrot is nice (or, in several cases, 'hott'). Therefore...

The girls charged. Phoebe knocked Cazzie to one side, gasped an apology, and then fell over as Traveler collided with her knees. Either elven grace or sheer good luck let her regain her balance, just in time for an invisible arm to slam into her, hard. She fell down, and was still on the floor when the fleeing figure turned and shot his closest pursuer – Vee – through the heart.

As the Death of Fangirls climbed to her feet, she met Llama's eyes. "Sorry for knocking you down," the Personification of Insanity said cheerfully. "Hey, this is fun!"

"I'M SURE," Phoebe intoned, and stalked towards Vee's fallen form, passing through the confused crowd like an anti-ghost. Only a few of them met her eyes – Hawkelf's shade, and Iplis, who gave her a long look and approving nod. Then Carrot began to speak again, and even they turned away.

"Well, you've let him escape," the watchman said, shaking his head. "How do you account for this?"

"He shot Vee!" called a handful of the girls. Carrot raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, he was extremely dangerous," he agreed. "That should have made apprehending him all the more important. But Miss Vee was the only one of you to even come close."

"Well, he ran fast," Andy said, and as Phoebe knelt down next to Vee she practically _heard_ Carrot's smile.

"Then clearly you need training. I think three laps of Endless Street should do for a start, don't you, Corporal?"

"Oh _yes_," grinned Nobby Nobbs. "And you know what? I reckon their Administrator will be _right_ behind the idea of punishment for the slowest..."

"You're well out of that one," Phoebe said to Vee's motionless form. "Does that make you feel better?"

"Not significantly," Vee's shade replied, sitting up. "You're Phoebe, right?" She stood and glanced down at the blue cord extending from her ankle. "Er..."

"Let me get that for you," Phoebe said, and swung her scythe. Vee nodded her thanks.

"So what happens now?" she asked, stretching. "I asked to be a zombie if I died – do I just go back in?"

"Er," said Phoebe. "I prefer not to tell people – YOU KNOW HOW IT IS."

"I suppose I'd better get settled in, then," Vee said cheerfully, and dived back into her corpse. Phoebe blinked, then looked down at the disgruntled shape of the mini-Luggage Hexxx.

"Don't blame _me_," she snapped as her scythe vanished. "You should have run faster. You've got the legs for it."

Vee sat up with a groan and pulled the crossbow bolt from her chest. "That hurt," she said to no-one in particular, and looked around.

"Ah, ladies," said Captain Carrot politely. "I'm pleased to see you're both back with us."

"Not that you get to stay," Nobby put in. Carrot smiled.

"The corporal is of course correct. You have three laps of Endless Street to complete – and your classmates have quite a lead on you."

* * *

**Disclaimer:** All Discworld canon characters and locations are the creations of Sir Terry Pratchett. The Official Fanfiction University concept is the creation of Miss Cam. The Interdimensional Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Elves is my invention. Phoebe is based on an application to OFUDisc by Fawkes Phoenix. All other students are based on applications to OFUDisc. All details of (and mistakes in) plot, narrative and dialogue are mine. Thanks to the Irish Samurai for betaing.

**Author's Note:** Gosh, it seems like ages since we saw an actual lesson at this University. Pair it up with the 'other side' view of Ispace and its operations, and this is one of the most information-rich chapters in the story – at least for the students.


	13. Chapter 12

"This is ridiculous," Phoebe muttered, her foot making a sucking noise as she pulled it out of the latest puddle.

"I would have said 'disgusting'," Iplis disagreed, skirting the same puddle. "What about you, Penny?"

"Hmm? Oh." Penny shook herself. "Yes," she said vaguely, and then her brow furrowed again as she lost herself in thought.

Iplis kissed the Assassin quickly on the cheek, shooting Phoebe a 'what can you do?' look. "We have to catch up with them soon," she pointed out, gesturing at the footprints they were following. "You can see for yourself they kept stopping – and we haven't."

"Assuming they're from the OFU at all," Phoebe said, scowling. "They could be _anyone's_ footprints."

"We're in the Ankh-Morpork sewer system," Iplis replied. "Do you really think anyone would come down here?"

"_We_ did."

"But not by choice." Phoebe couldn't disagree with that. They'd been halfway through their second lap of the city when a huge black raven had divebombed them, forcing them to dodge – and fall down a concealed hole into the sewers. Elven grace, it turned out, was no protection against knee-deep waste.

"I hear someone up ahead," Iplis said suddenly. "Wait here and I'll scout." And off she dashed like a rather smelly shadow.

Phoebe edged closer to Penny in the dark. "Is this as creepy to you as it is to me?" she whispered.

"Yeah..." Penny murmured, staring off into the darkness. Phoebe sighed. Well, it had been worth a try.

She became aware of faint voices. The acoustics of the tunnel system had combined with her enhanced elven senses to, apparently, let her hear snatches of conversation between Iplis and the unseen Someone.

"Yes, waiting back there," said the vampire in response to some question, and then, "No, too far back." Phoebe strained her ears to hear more.

What she made out was one side of what seemed to be an intense debate – specifically the losing side. "I'm not sure I want to-" she heard, followed by, "No, I know. I'll stick to the plan," and some time later, "It just feels like there should be a better way."

Phoebe frowned, turned to Penny, and opened her mouth to speak – but closed it again at the sight of her friend's vacant expression. She was quite clearly so far gone in her infatuation with Iplis that she'd be unable to hear a word against her – and Phoebe didn't even have that. Just unformed suspicions.

Eventually Iplis returned. "It's Yukimona and Mercuria," she said, a strange look on her face (or was that just Phoebe's paranoia?). "They're out as a scouting party for... well, most of the class has made it here by now."

"_Everyone_ fell down that hole?" Phoebe queried. "Penny, you've lived here – is tumbling into the sewers a common occurrence?"

"I don't... think so," Penny replied, brow furrowed. "I remember once, me and... thingy. My friend. What was her name again?"

Phoebe frowned. "You mentioned her that first night... Vemi, was it?"

Penny's face spasmed as if with pain, and Phoebe heard the shock of indrawn breath from Iplis. "Yes," Penny said slowly. "Vemi. How did...?" She shook her head in a sharp motion. "It doesn't matter, anyway."

"No, it doesn't," Ipis said, an edge to her voice as she crossed to Penny's side. She stroked the other woman's hair gently, ignoring Penny's initial flinch and waiting until she'd settled down – like a skittish kitten, Phoebe decided. "It doesn't matter," the vampire continued in a calmer tone, "because none of us fell down here by _accident_. This is the way to our next class."

"What, so the OFU hired a crow to drive us down here?"

Iplis smiled thinly. "Something like that," she said enigmatically, and took Penny's hand. "Come on."

The tunnel they were in led out into a tangled junction, filled with the smell of wet earth, the reek of sewage, and the stench of the filth-spattered students. Only Hawkelf had managed to stay clean (and she had certain advantages in that respect), but there were a handful of other non-odorous inhabitants in the chamber.

First up was the Administrator, who nodded in satisfaction as Phoebe's group arrived. "That's the lot of them," he said to the second figure, which nodded its robed head, lifted its scythe, and scrabbled up the side of a crumbling pillar until it reached eye-level. SQUEAK, it said into the silence.

As the rest of the class listened with bewildered attention to the Death of Rats' lesson, Phoebe found her gaze drawn to the third dry occupant. It was studying the class with interest, and noticed her attention immediately. "What?" croaked Quoth the raven. "Are my feathers ruffled?"

SQUEAK!

Phoebe guiltily snapped her head back to the pillar, and the glaring skeletal rat. "Yes, sir," she said. "Sorry, sir."

There was a snigger from the raven. "You could offer to polish his scythe," it offered. "I bet he'd really appreciate that."

Phoebe didn't really have a response.

* * *

**Disclaimer:** All Discworld canon characters and locations are the creations of Sir Terry Pratchett. The Official Fanfiction University concept is the creation of Miss Cam. Phoebe is based on an application to OFUDisc by Fawkes Phoenix. All other students are based on applications to OFUDisc. All details of (and mistakes in) plot, narrative and dialogue are mine. Thanks to the Irish Samurai for betaing.

**Author's Note:** My view of the sewers of Ankh is drawn in large part from _Discworld Noir_, which, appropriately enough, also had the Death of Rats down there...


	14. Chapter 13

That night, Phoebe lay awake in the near-darkness, listening to the sounds of the dormitory. Statistically, she knew, three (well, 2.9) of the girls in Class Two were likely to be gay. That meant that the no less than five pairs sharing beds – including, of all people, Gaia and Nenya – couldn't possibly _all_ be sleeping together – right?

Her gaze strayed from the ceiling to the bed under the dorm's one barred window. That was Penny's bed – but she wasn't in it alone. In the faint starlight Phoebe could make out the occasional movement of the hunched shapes of two women.

A frown touched Phoebe's face. That was a _very_ hunched figure. It looked less like – well, whatever legitimate things Penny and Iplis might be getting up to – and far more like one person kneeling by another's pillow, bending down...

Phoebe made up her mind. Chances were she was about to embarrass herself immensely – and lose a friend in the process – but the whole thing just felt wrong. Besides, this was an OFU – making stupid mistakes was par for the course. She climbed silently out of bed and padded across the room.

The shapes on the bed refused to resolve any further, and finally she had to reach out and tap the (possible) hunched figure on its back.

There was a gasp, and the woman raised her head – just in time for the moon to come out from behind its cloud. The pale light illuminated Iplis' startled face, her bared fangs – and the blood still dripping back down from them to Penny's neck.

"Phoebe!" the vampire exclaimed. "I – this isn't what it looks like, I swear. I didn't want-"

"Didn't want what?" Phoebe cut her off as everything from the last two days suddenly clicked into place. "Didn't want to take over my friend's mind? Didn't want to seduce her so you could murder her to satisfy your desires? Didn't want to get your friends to do the same to four other girls?"

"Five, actually," a new voice drawled, and Yukimona's hand grabbed Phoebe's shoulder in a vicelike grip. "You likely didn't notice Kai going to Tisea's bed after the lights went out. Now," the vampire continued pleasantly, "let's get you back to your nice warm blankets and cool pillow. If you're very good, I might even join you."

Phoebe nodded along. It was such a reasonable suggestion, after all. And look how well things had turned out for-

Phoebe's gaze jerked back down to Penny – to the blood on her neck, the slow, shallow breathing. "Thanks for the offer," she said levelly, "but I've got a much better idea." She drew a quick breath, steeled herself, and yelled:

"The vampires are attacking! Fangirls, defend-"

That was as far as she got before Yukimona's hand slapped over her mouth. "You had to make things difficult," the vampire hissed as the class awoke with sounds of alarm. "Now we'll have to secure _all_ of you. Oh, but don't worry, Death of Fangirls, we won't kill anyone. Yet."

The roundup was ridiculously fast. The mortal girls were still half asleep, while all twelve vampires were ready for action. Only Hawkelf escaped, hiding in the ceiling. Even Llama was taken, or so Phoebe gathered from Sliver's brief struggle with thin air.

Yukimona surveyed the captive students, Iplis and Kai at her back, a thin smile on her face. Only a few of the girls were still struggling; the rest stood docile. Phoebe didn't know how many of them were under actual mind control, how many had simply given up hope, and how many were restrained by the vampires' threats against the three girls they'd already rendered unconscious – including Penny.

Yukimona shook her head as the last holdouts were slapped into submission. "Disappointing," she said. "I had hoped at least a few of you would offer a challenge, but seizing you was as easy as turning them." She waved a hand dismissively at the other vampires.

Iplis' lip curled slightly. "We _wanted_ to be turned," she hissed.

Yukimona laughed softly. "Yes. Like the foolish fangirl I used to be, you longed to become vampires. But you forgot, didn't you? Forgot that a vampire is subservient to the one who changed her." She sniffed. "As I said – no challenge."

"Sort of like how getting to Lord Vetinari was 'no challenge'?" a voice demanded, and Phoebe was shocked to realise it was her own.

Yukimona whirled on her, hissing. "Oh, yes, our little Death of Fangirls, who thinks herself so brave. Brave enough to call out and get everyone up – that worked out so well, didn't it?"

"I couldn't just let your friend there suck Penny dry," Phoebe protested, feeling the vampire's will wash over hers. It _had_ been a little stupid, in hindsight.

"Yes, stupid," Yukimona said in her silken tones. "Look at you – without your scythe you're just a frightened little girl. And the rest of you!" Her gaze swept over Class Two. "The Assassin with her butter knife, the mad girl with her matches... you are _nothing_." She paused, watching as one by one the girls bowed their heads in defeat, before continuing in a lower voice:

"With my help, you could be so much more. You could have _everything_ – power, beauty, eternal youth. Why resist?"

"Because we must," said a thick voice, and Liliac raised her head. "Because we're not like you, and however hopeless it is, we _have_ to stand against you – at any cost."

"And you will always fail."

Liliac met the vampire's glare with blazing eyes. "But at least we'll have tried."

There was a scream – sudden, high-pitched and terrifying – and Cazzie launched herself out of the crowd at the nearest vampire. Maligna's lip twisted with disdain, and her hand flew up, lightning-quick.

Yukimona's eyes widened as the other vampire's arm began to swing. "No!" she snapped – but she was half a second too late.

Maligna Chiroptera's hand struck Cazzie with the force of a sledgehammer, flicking her sideways. She hit the wall with the sound of bones shattering, and Yukimona whirled with desperate speed to face Phoebe...

... who gripped her scythe, smoothed down her robe, and smiled her most humourless smile. "I HAVE YOU NOW," she intoned – and lunged.

Not all of the vampires fell to the Death of Fangirls. Raen and her butter knife accounted for Maligna, while Llama teamed up with Vee and Hawkelf to identify, catch and burn Sliver and Traveler. Lindyellwen, with an expression that could only be described as grim, smashed the edges off her wooden hoof before hunting down Kisheara with the stake that remained, and even Liliac claimed a kill, leading Kaitlyn, Phoenix Flight and Saphie into battle with nothing more than their bare hands, and very nearly tearing Mercuria apart – since, as Liliac explained later, she was now more of a threat to the other elves than she was in need of defence.

Finally only two vampires remained. Lucy2 "Diamanda2" Tockley2-Stibbons had surrendered almost immediately, and was under heavy guard in the centre of the room. Phoebe stalked across the dorm to the other survivor.

"GET AWAY FROM HER," she ordered.

Iplis didn't even look up – just stroked Penny's hair almost tenderly. "I never wanted to hurt her," she said vaguely. "She was so... so vulnerable, I couldn't help but be drawn to her."

"YOU TOOK ADVANTAGE OF HER," Phoebe declared.

Iplis sighed. "I suppose I did." She kissed the unconscious girl's brow and rose gracefully to her feet. "Well – go on, then," she said.

Phoebe's eyes burned into her. "YOU BETRAYED MY FRIEND," she said in a voice as cold as eternity. "YOU STOLE HER AFFECTIONS, TOYED WITH HER, SEDUCED HER, AND TRIED TO DRAIN HER DRY."

"All those," Iplis agreed quietly. "And now I'm in your hands."

Phoebe gave her a long look.

"DEATH," she said with finality, "IS TOO GOOD FOR YOU."

The Death of Fangirls turned away without another word and stalked across the room to where Liliac was scooping the pile of dust that had once been Mercuria into a small blue bottle. "SECURE THE VAMPIRE," Phoebe said, and the Ispace operative jumped. Phoebe waited patiently until she had recovered, then added, "AND TAKE CARE OF THE GIRL."

"Um," Liliac replied uncertainly. "Yes? Yes. Okay." She blinked. "Phoebe, you're actually kind of scaring me now."

"GOOD," the Death of Fangirls said, and turned away.

She crossed the room slowly, stopping every now and then to check up on the girls who had been injured in the fighting – although, coming down from the stress of the battle, most of them couldn't see _her_ any more. Finally she came to where Cazzie's broken body lay - and where Cazzie's spirit was perched, nibbling on the dregs of an ethereal bucket of banged grains.

"All done, then?" her friend said cheerfully, getting to her feet. "I'm glad that worked. I'd've hated to get myself killed for nothing."

"IT WAS EFFECTIVE," Phoebe intoned, swinging her scythe. Cazzie raised an eyebrow.

"'Effective', huh? Don't I even rate a 'thanks'?"

The Death of Fangirls stared at her. From across the room there was a startled cry, and then the mini-Luggage Dried Fog Pills leapt over a bed and swallowed Cazzie's spirit whole.

Phoebe let the scythe drop as it vanished, feeling her hair reshape itself. After a moment Liliac came and stood at her shoulder. "I kind of needed that bottle," she said. "Well, it'll teach me to pay attention to what I'm doing."

"INDEED," Phoebe said dryly, and Liliac shot her a startled look.

"I thought – okay." She took a half-step back. "Um. Right. Okay. I thought you'd like to know – Penny's woken up."

Phoebe gave her a stricken look, turned, and fled across the room without another word. She leapt over the kneeling figure of Andy and stumbled to a halt by Penny's bed. Her friend looked up at her weakly.

"She bit me, didn't she?"

"YES," Phoebe confirmed, and saw Penny's eyebrows rise.

"The killing's over now," she said softly. "Liliac told me. You've done it. Let the mask go."

Phoebe stared down at her. Couldn't she see that this was no mask? That she had truly become the Death of Fangirls – had _had_ to, because the alternative was admitting that-

Penny reached out shakily and took her friend's hand. "It's all right," she whispered. "It's over."

"I... I DON'T..." Phoebe squeezed her eyes closed, shook her head. "I don't think I can," she managed.

Penny smiled faintly. "Then let me help you," she said in a fading voice, and tugged on Phoebe's hand. Phoebe leant down, expecting some whisper of advice – and was caught completely by surprise when Penny's lips found her own.

* * *

**Disclaimer:** All Discworld canon characters and locations are the creations of Sir Terry Pratchett. The Official Fanfiction University concept is the creation of Miss Cam. Phoebe is based on an application to OFUDisc by Fawkes Phoenix. All other students are based on applications to OFUDisc. All details of (and mistakes in) plot, narrative and dialogue are mine. Thanks to the Irish Samurai for betaing.

**Author's Note:** I have to admit, this was simultaneously the most fun chapter to write – and the hardest. I know it's a fair bit darker than the foregoing – rest assured that it does lighten up again next chapter. Well, a bit.


	15. Chapter 14

The mood was unsettled as Class Two made their way to their first lesson the following day. The two surviving vampires, Iplis and Lucy2, travelled under what was essentially armed guard – Raen with her knife and the alarmingly stern Lindyellwen with her sharpened hoof. The conversation in the rest of the diminished group was superficially normal, but tension lurked like a shark below the surface, its ripples touching the minds of all.

All, that is, except Phoebe and Penny, who chatted away as if they hadn't a care in the world. Eventually, Liliac – who had been checking up on Tisea, making sure she'd recovered from Kai's attempt to drain her dry – joined them.

"Doing okay, then, Penny?" Liliac asked with forced cheer.

Penny nodded. "Pretty much all healed now," she said. "Kaitlyn thinks the vamps had some sort of coagulant on their fangs – which makes no sense, by the way, and I don't think it's canon, so it's on the list – but that's why we've healed so fast."

Liliac frowned at her. "You're _really_ okay?" she pressed. "No lingering psychological trauma or anything? I mean, if you're going to go Bursar on us I need to know."

Penny glanced across at the subdued figure of Iplis and sighed softly. "It still hurts to think about, if that's what you mean," she said, one hand rising to rub her throat absently. "But Phoebe's done a good job of taking my mind off it."

Phoebe giggled, an incongruous sound in the general gloom. "You're welcome," she said, and Penny smiled back at her.

"... so you keep mentioning that list," Liliac changed the subject. "Is that the one you were working on with Kaitlyn?"

"And Raen and Nenya, yes," Penny nodded. "Actually I need to talk to you about it. Do you-"

"Incoming!" called Phoenix Flight, who some quiet discussion at breakfast had placed on point. The class shifted in response, falling into a defensive formation, with Hawkelf shooting up to act as overwatch, Vee, Nenya and (presumably) Llama as primary defence, and Raen and Lindyellwen drawing closer to their charges. Phoebe found herself at the centre of a convincing defensive ring.

The haggard figure of the Administrator walked into view, leading two others. The shorter of the two gave a cheerful wave.

"Hi all!" Cazzie called. "Did you miss me?"

The Administrator ignored her and came to a halt in front of Class Two. Over the shoulders of Nenya and Andy, his eyes met Phoebe's.

"Miss Mercuria has told me about your... actions," he said wearily.

Liliac scowled. "I should have left her for the cleaners," she muttered. "Blasted minis."

The Administrator ignored her, too. "The Hat isn't pleased that half your class will be out of action today. That means _I_ have to go and recover the fangirls you failed to send on their way."

"You can't," Lindyellwen said flatly. "We threw them out of the window when the storm blew in. Not even Blind EIEIO could find them now."

The appearance of a small, many-legged altar did nothing to distract from the Administrator's wince, not even when it promptly lifted its lid and shot a lightning bolt into Becky's ankle.

"You realise they are actual people, yes?" the Administrator snapped. "That even fangirls have _some_ rights? That an OFU which _loses_ half its students will-" He stopped, visible collecting himself. "Right. Well. Here are your colleagues. Try not to murder any more of each other."

As Cazzie practically skipped over to Liliac, and Saphie and Tisea escorted Mercuria over to the other vampires, Phoebe found herself studying the Administrator. Her first impression had been right – 'haggard' fit him like a glove.

"Talk to Time," Penny said suddenly from Phoebe's side, and every eye turned to her. She shrugged. "She – or he, now, I guess – might be able to take you back to when they threw the vampires out."

The Administrator gave her a long look, then nodded grudgingly. "Maybe I will," he said. "As for you lot... you're already late for class. Make your way to Harga's House of Ribs – however many of you are left."

Class Two exchanged looks as he walked away. Finally, sounding a little too upbeat to be true, Esme said, "So, Sham Harga. What's _he_ going to teach us, do you think?"

"I don't care what he teaches," Raen growled. "I just want to borrow a knife..."

The class laughed, letting the tension in the air relax a little, and started walking. Penny squeezed Phoebe's hand. "Because if I can't, who could?" she asked. Phoebe shook her head slightly.

"I do understand," she said. "It's just..."

"Yeah. I know."

The remainder of the journey into Ankh-Morpork was thoroughly uneventful, save for what Cazzie cheerfully referred to as Operation Wish I Had A Map. Finally, Kaitlyn knocked on a dilapidated wooden door, and OFUDisc Class Two were let through into the kitchen of...

... _not_ Sham Harga, who even Phoebe remembered was a rather large man. Lindyellwen squeaked at the sight of the tall, battered figure scowling over a frying pan. "Albert O'Malley?"

Saphie snorted. "With a face like that? Alberto Malice, more like."

Two ancient red tobacco pouches popped into existence on hundreds of tiny legs. One sat down to wash its whiskers, prompting the other to lunge forward and push it over. The girls stared.

"Tch, look what you've done," their apparent teacher snapped. "It's _Albert_ – no more, no less. Can you handle that?"

"No problem, Old Burn," Lindyellwen chirped, prompting the appearance of a third, singed pouch (which Alberto Malice promptly tripped over). Albert grimaced.

"You'd be the one who 'can't die'," he rasped. "That doesn't mean you can't be punished – understand?"

"Yes," Liliac said flatly, "we understand." The rest of the class drew in around her, each sporting the closest thing they had to a weapon (which in Raen's case was now a _very_ large carving knife). Liliac smiled thinly, and added, "We _won't_ let that happen."

There was a long silence, and then Albert grinned, showing yellow teeth. "So, you're here to learn how to cook," he began. "If you'll each collect a frying pan..."

As Death's manservant began his lesson with a serving of deep-fried strawberries, Phoebe found herself standing with Penny, Liliac and Cazzie for the first time in... well, it must have been ages... she blinked with a bizarre realisation.

"You know we've only been here for five days," she murmured. The others looked surprised, then Liliac laughed.

"Ridiculous how much we've managed to do, isn't it?" she asked. "Sort of makes you wish you'd never signed up, doesn't it?"

"If I hadn't, life would be a lot simpler," Phoebe agreed with a small smile. "But..."

Cazzie nodded. "But we four would never have met," she said quietly. "And I wouldn't change that."

"Me neither," Liliac agreed. "Not for all the spice in Klatch."

"It's nice we all agree," Phoebe laughed, but froze as she saw Penny's frown. "... you don't?"

"What?" Penny shook herself. "Sorry. No, I would never wish I hadn't met you. It's just..."

"Vemi?" Phoebe asked gently.

Penny blinked at her, clearly surprised. "No, actually. I was thinking about the list I've been working on. It's... in some ways it's even more important than, well, us."

"Ah, the mysterious list," Liliac said. "It's good to know there's someone else with an ulterior motive." But she was smiling as she said it, and Penny grinned back.

"It's not that mysterious. It's just... look, haven't you noticed this place makes no sense?"

"Well, no," Cazzie said slowly. "It's the Discworld."

"Har har. But seriously. Liliac, how old are you?"

"Seventeen," Liliac replied, then frowned. "No, wait. Twenty... five?"

"Exactly." Penny turned to Phoebe. "And what was the last Discworld book?"

"Um. Monstrous... Regiment?" She shook her head. "I think there's been a couple more..."

"Eight and a 'Science of' one," Penny pointed out, and Phoebe's jaw dropped. She couldn't have gotten _that_ confused... but wait, come to think of it, there was that Post Office one, what was it called...?

"And the list goes on," Penny said, derailing Phoebe's train of thought. "Kaitlyn over there took three days to remember she's married now, and none of us have a decent reason for signing up."

Cazzie raised a hand. "Just for the record," she said, "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"No, you don't," Penny agreed, "and that's weird too. As is... well, you _must_ have noticed that distances are messed up here. I know none of you are PPC-types, but you have to have caught that."

"I _did_ think Uberwald ought to be a bit further away from Ankh," Phoebe agreed, as her friend's meaning began to dawn on her. "So why-?"

Penny wasn't done. "And then there was that 'Traveler fell faster because of belief', which makes _no_ sense on Discworld. And don't get me started on those 'vampires'..."

"So we're, what, timeslipped into a broken version of the canon?" Liliac asked. Penny shook her head.

"There's more that's wrong. This OFU – it bears no resemblance to the others. Where's the Course Coordinator? Where's the central building? Where," she added grimly, "are the other classes?"

The others stared at her. Then Cazzie nodded slowly. "And the minis," she suggested. "They all look different..."

"And they're all from _spoken_ mistakes," Penny agreed. "And then there's the biggest problem of all: _how did we get here_?"

There was dead silence. Phoebe tried to think back. She'd been in her room, and then... then Pretty Butterfly had been asking questions? No, that couldn't be right. There'd been a giant broomstick... no, that was the rock their first class had been on. But she'd read OFUM (or at least the first couple of chapters), normally there was some sort of introductory period...

Finally, Penny said, "That's what I've been working on. And I think-"

"_I_ think you're burning your strawberries," interrupted a crabby voice. Penny yelped and snatched them off the stove. "Never mind," Albert went on, looking at the blackened lumps which clung to the cast iron pan like iconographers to a minor celebrity. "I'm sure your friends will help you eat them... if, that is, they keep on talking."

* * *

**Disclaimer:** All Discworld canon characters and locations are the creations of Sir Terry Pratchett. The Official Fanfiction University concept is the creation of Miss Cam. Phoebe is based on an application to OFUDisc by Fawkes Phoenix. All other students are based on applications to OFUDisc. All details of (and mistakes in) plot, narrative and dialogue are mine. Thanks to the Irish Samurai for betaing.

**Author's Note:** What – you didn't think I was actually making mistakes, did you? Well, all right, maybe I was – but if so, I think I'm about to get called on it...


	16. Chapter 15

After a lunch consisting solely of their own cooking – Albert being an avid proponent of Learning Through Pain – the students of OFUDisc took a quick stroll from Ankh over to Ephebe. Now that she was aware of it, Phoebe found the absurdity of this almost too much to handle, but sadly her disapproval had little to no effect on the placid landscape. Cabbages gave way to sand, and they soon found themselves filing into a massive stone-built stadium.

"I don't recall any canonical mentions of stadia in Ephebe," Raen expounded as they assembled on the dusty track, "but this is clearly in the classical Greek mode, so it's a reasonable supposition."

"Didn't the Greeks do their athletics naked?" Nenya asked in a dreamy voice. At Raen's dubious nod, she pointed at the approaching figure in his moth-eaten red robe. "Do you think we could persuade _him_ to keep the tradition?"

Rincewind came to a reluctant halt in front of the girls. Studying him – as all her classmates were – Phoebe decided the rodent-based descriptions of him were accurate: a weasel-faced man with a ratty beard and mouse-nibbled wardrobe who held himself like a rabbit on the verge of flight. She felt kind of sorry for him.

The Disc's most famous wizzard moved his lips soundlessly, as if he were praying, or rehearsing his lines – or telling himself not to run away. Then he straightened up and managed not to meet anyone's eyes.

"The most important thing is pacing," he said. "If you pace yourself properly, you can keep going all day... oh, go on, what is it?"

He didn't bother to clarify whether this last was addressed to Andy, who had raised her hand, or the half-dozen other girls who were now giggling uncontrollably. Phoebe decided he was fortunate Andy got her reply in first.

"Excuse me, your Wizzardlyness," she said, and Phoebe only barely held back her own laughter, "but what exactly are you teaching us?"

Rincewind actually met her gaze for a second – earning Andy a glare from Nenya – before sighing and rubbing his eyes. "I've got a plan," he announced. "Let's all pretend to be reasonable, non-threatening people, and maybe nothing will happen which anyone will regret."

"Are you scared we're going to molest you?" Cazzie called, prompting laughter from the class (and a speculative look from Nenya) – laughter which cut off suddenly as a loud creak sounded behind them. The girls turned almost as one to see a rather familiar sea chest lying on the sand, blocking the exit.

Liliac squealed and darted forward, almost reaching the Luggage before it stumbled to its feet and bared big, square teeth. Even then, she only stopped a short distance away, making cooing noises as the box on legs shifted uncertainly.

"All right," said Saphie, "but you didn't answer the Andy Half's question. What class is this?"

Rincewind scowled at the Luggage, then glanced at Saphie. "Athletics. Specifically, running." He grimaced. "Not that anyone can learn to run properly on a _curved_ track, but the Hat insisted, and what the Hat says..."

"What Hat?" chorused half a dozen of the girls – Penny and Phoebe among them.

Rincewind shook his head. "You're not getting me _that_ easily. Look, go run a lap, will you? Then I'll tell you what you're doing wrong and we can get all this out of the way."

The girls obediently set off at a rather disorganised jog which brought Cazzie and Liliac up to join Phoebe and Penny. Liliac was still casting adoring looks at the Luggage, so Cazzie started the conversation.

"Back before the Lunch of Terror, you were talking about how we got here?"

Penny nodded and began to explain rapidly (showing far too much energy for someone jogging so fast – Phoebe herself was practically out of breath already): "The other PPCers and I have passed this back and forth, and we think we've come up with a solution which fits the observed facts. The reason all this feels like a slightly dodgy fanfic is... that it _is_ a slightly dodgy fanfic."

Cazzie raised an eyebrow. "So we're some writer's creations?"

"Can't be," Phoebe gasped, stopping and clutching her side. "Fiction... ow... doesn't _ache_ this much."

"Exactly," Penny agreed, putting an arm round her shoulders and setting off again at a slower pace. "But I think _OFUDisc_ is a story – and we were written in."

"Like in Jurisfiction?" Liliac asked. "They can _read_ themselves in..."

"And wasn't there a Doctor Who episode where people got trapped in pictures of themselves?" Cazzie asked, earning blank looks all round. Penny shrugged.

"So that's our theory. We signed up eight years ago, but we're only _now_ being written in – by someone trying to fit real!us into the mould of us a decade ago."

Cazzie nodded enthusiastically. "And since I didn't apply here to start with-"

"You were written in based on an up-to-date application form," Penny agreed. "So while the rest of us have been fighting to unify two versions of ourselves, you've been absolutely fine."

"Which is all well and good," Liliac said, frowning, "but what about Ispace? I can't imagine the author wanted _them_ here."

"But we're in the realms of fiction now," Penny pointed out as they rounded the last corner, "just as if we were on the 'real' Discworld. And portals can take you between Word Worlds..."

"I'm more worried about the 'two versions of us' business," Phoebe said. "Does that mean we'll change when we go home, or...?"

The others exchanged uncomfortable looks, but were saved from trying to answer by their arrival at the finish line – last, of course. Rincewind was standing by the high-arched entrance, and shook his head as they reached the group.

"The first thing you all did wrong," the wizzard said, "is jogged. There's never any point in it. Either stay where you are, or get away as fast as possible."

"What about exercise?" Becky called out.

Rincewind looked genuinely puzzled. "Why would you practice something useless?"

"What, like you and magic?" called Vee, which earned her a clip round the ear from Nenya. Rincewind just looked glum.

"At one point," he told them, "I carried one of the greatest spells on the Disc in my head. Can any of you say as much?"

"I might be a wizard," Kaitlyn said, raising her hand. "I mean, depending on if the Oath works in the real world. Or Middle-earth. Or Hogwarts. Or here, for that matter..."

"I've saved the Disc more times than I can count," Rincewind snapped. Phoebe could see a vein pulsing in his forehead – apparently Kaitlyn had pushed one button too many. "The chance of any of you doing so even _once_ is less than – well, we'd sooner see the sky fall!"

There was a dead silence – which was broken by a cheerful little tune. Liliac's face lit up, and she pulled from her pocket the last thing Phoebe would have expected:

A mobile phone.

"Since I don't often get a feed line like that," she said, reading the text, "you'll have to forgive me for taking it. Ladies, look to the skies – and take cover."

With the rest of Class Two, Phoebe squinted at the cloudless azure sky. Was there a dark spot up there? She blinked, trying to make sure – and was it growing larger?

The girls gasped one by one as each of them spotted it. As the dot grew into a speck, and then continued to expand at an incredible rate, someone screamed – and then the fangirls were running, making for the cover of the ranks of seats. Rincewind was already a receding spot on the horizon.

As the dot resolved into a distinct shape – like some terrible, two-headed bird, curved wings sweeping forward to vicious points – a wind picked up, filling the air with sand and dust. Phoebe braced herself against it and advanced on Liliac, stumbling as the wind rose to a gale.

"What is that thing?" she screamed at her friend. "Lili – what have you done?"

Liliac turned to face her, smile wide, brown hair with blonde streaks whipping around her face. "That," she shouted over the howl of the wind, the deeper roar of immeasurably powerful engines as the spaceship came in to land, "is an Eldar Vampire Raider! Twenty-six metres long with a thirteen metre wingspan, and transport capacity for thirty troops!" The ship came to a sudden halt, its wingtips still six feet above the ground, and its engines cut off with a terrifying finality. In the sudden silence, her ears still ringing, Phoebe clearly heard Liliac's next words:

"And it's come to take us away."

Cazzie was the first to break the paralysis which had gripped Class Two. "Oh, no," she said, stalking towards Liliac. "You said you'd stop! You promised Phoebe – no more wormholes!"

"Yes, I did," Liliac nodded. "And while I could point out that this is a dropship, not a wormhole, all I can really say is: I'm sorry. I lied."

There was a grinding hiss from the spaceship, and a massive ramp lowered to the sand. Among the girls, who had begun to climb out of their hiding places, a couple leapt back behind cover. Lines of tall, armoured bipeds funnelled down, and even in her stunned state Phoebe's mind quailed. Their almost iridescent blue armour covered bodies far too elongated to be human - and any doubt on that score was dispelled by the sheer height of their bone-white helmets. Their sleek, curving black weapons, seemingly halfway between a crossbow and a rifle, looked practically alive in their viciousness - all of which made the woman in their midst - perfectly ordinary, black-haired with a brown cloak - even more jarring. And then there was the very familiar creature on her shoulder...

"Hethien! Platy!" Liliac called. "Glad you could make it!"

"I wouldn't miss _this_ for the worlds," the Noble Platypus grinned, scampering over to her. "Are we finally ready to start making ripples?"

"We'd better be," Liliac said grimly. "The die is cast either way. Has Aranel figured out how they blocked me before?"

"No," Hethien reported, joining them, "but she found the range. Beyond the sun's orbit, we can portal."

"Good work, that woman." Liliac glanced at Phoebe, then raised her voice. "All elves will join me now. This is not optional."

That was what finally snapped Phoebe out of her shock. "There are no other elves!" she yelled at the girl she had called a friend. "I'm the only one!"

"We'll have to get that seen to," Liliac murmured as Hethien stepped in to take hold of Phoebe and pull her behind Liliac. "Nice try, though – using your instincts to try and help the others. Misguided, though." She raised her voice. "Tisea, Phoenix Flight, Mercuria, Lindyellwen – Eldar Dire Avengers aren't known for their gentleness. I suggest you come down before your friends get hurt."

The four girls started down, with the others flocking after them – and then there was a motion at the gate, and the Administrator ran in. He stopped, eyes narrowing at the sight of the Vampire Raider, and turned his glare on Liliac. "You. I shouldn't have let you come back."

"Probably not," Liliac agreed. "But that's no longer your concern." She held out a hand, and Hethien handed her a scroll of paper. Liliac unfurled a finely-calligraphed proclamation and held it up.

"Now hear this," she called, loud enough for all the girls – now scattered around the floor of the stadium – to hear her clearly. "For its crimes against elvenkind and violation of Ispace Rule One, the Official Fanfiction University of Discworld is hereby outlawed and dissolved, effective immediately. All assets are to be seized, and all staff and students held pending relocation or trial." A shocked buzz ran through the stadium. "All students _will_ enjoy the presumption of innocence, except in the case of direct evidence of complicity in the maltreatment of elves." She raised her gaze to meet the Administrator's. "Staff will not be granted the same privilege."

"Liliac," said Cazzie, trembling. "Please. Don't do this-"

"This world is now under the control of Ispace," Liliac cut her off, "and any abuse of elves in any form will be met with the harshest of penalties."

On cue, the Eldar Dire Avengers began a steady march towards the gate and the Administrator. He didn't turn his head, but called, "Class Two will join me here, please. That includes you, Cazzie – and the elves among you."

The remaining girls filed in as Liliac concluded. "All these things are enacted by me, Liliac, on this day, by the authority of the Interdimensional Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Elves." She handed the scroll back to Hethien and studied the Administrator, now surrounded by his students.

Hethien began to lead Phoebe, unresisting and in shock, towards the Raider. Phoebe looked back over her shoulder, and her eyes met Penny's anguished gaze.

As the Eldar closed in, the Administrator nodded slowly. "Well played, Liliac," he said. "But... there's just _one_ thing you forgot to take into account."

He reached up, unhurried, and unbuttoned his black coat, letting it fall back like a cape from the white tunic underneath. Liliac's eyes widened in shock.

"You!" she gasped. "I was sure it was just-" Her head snapped round to face the Dire Avengers. "Seize him!" she screamed. "Don't let him-!"

The first fireball left the Administrator's fingertips as Hethien reached the top of the ramp, now physically dragging the limp Phoebe. The sometime Death of Fangirls' attention was locked on Penny as the battle began, and she heard, over the sounds of war, her friend's final promise: "I'll find you!"

There was a flash, brighter than the sun, and when her vision cleared, Class Two was gone.

* * *

**Disclaimer:** All Discworld canon characters and locations are the creations of Sir Terry Pratchett. Warhammer 40K is the property of Games Workshop. The Official Fanfiction University concept is the creation of Miss Cam. Ispace is my own invention, and its staff are based on applications to join. Phoebe is based on an application to OFUDisc by Fawkes Phoenix. All other students are based on applications to OFUDisc. All details of (and mistakes in) plot, narrative and dialogue are mine. Thanks to the Irish Samurai for betaing.

**Author's Note:** Phoebe, Penny, Liliac and Cazzie will return in _The Ispace Wars_, coming soon to a website near you. And they won't be alone...

As for OFUDisc... this is almost the end (a world under invasion not being the ideal environment for teaching). Stay tuned for the epilogue.

(And if you've read the original Ispace or _Pancakes!_ - yes, the Administrator is the infamous, overpowered and generally mysterious Huinesoron. Liliac did _say_ she recognised him...)


	17. Epilogue

The hillside was the sort of terrain which invokes words like 'bleak', 'merciless', or 'desolate'. It was the kind of slope on which nothing ever happens – a bleak (there it is), soul-crushing nothingness that makes one want to scream just to feel something.

On this occasion, the sole occupant felt like screaming for another reason entirely. He'd been assured that however long his quest took, it would be less than five seconds in the present. That was all well and good, but in his personal timeline it had been closer to five months…

But this was the last. He had tracked this particular air current across a dozen miles before it had finally approached ground level, and now here he was. Staked out on the ground at his feet was a massive bedsheet, ready to catch the wind's precious cargo. With a long-practiced eye he watched the wisp of black dust descend through the clear air, aimed directly at the sheet.

He was barely even surprised by the last-minute gust which shunted the powder sideways, onto bracken-covered ground.

With a weary curse, he pulled a bottle from his pack and glared at it. "You _would_ have to be difficult," he told it. "But I'm not playing anymore." He uncorked the bottle and tipped the contents unceremoniously onto the ground. The black dust drifted down, coating a handful of flowers as he retrieved a far smaller, red bottle.

One drop of blood was all it took. The dust congealed, then burst upwards from the soil like the world's largest earthworm. In seconds, a young woman stood on the hillside. She wrinkled her nose and looked down at herself distastefully.

"Why," she began, "and I ask this with great trepidation, do my clothes smell of heather and fox droppings?"

The Administrator of OFUDisc sighed. "Yukimona," he said tiredly. "Welcome back. It's time to go home."

* * *

**Disclaimer:** The Discworld is the creation of Sir Terry Pratchett. The Official Fanfiction University concept is the creation of Miss Cam. Yukimona is based on an application to OFUDisc. All details of (and mistakes in) plot, narrative and dialogue are mine. Thanks to the Irish Samurai for betaing.

**Author's Note:** And so it ends. With Time's assistance, all the students of OFUDisc have been recovered – and since this iteration of the Discworld is now under Ispace control, the year has been terminated. The Administrator has gone into hiding, and all students have been sent home.

Well… perhaps not _all_. Stay tuned for _The Ispace Wars_. And thank you for reading!


End file.
